


Neither Confirm, Nor Deny

by ShadPhenix



Category: Fast & Furious (Movies), Hobbs & Shaw (2019)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bodyguard, Comedy of Errors, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family, Humor, POV Second Person, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26378692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadPhenix/pseuds/ShadPhenix
Summary: With your grandmother's 90th birthday celebration just around the corner, you find yourself in desperate need of a date, the kind of soul-wrenching desperation that makes you willing to give a male escort a shot. That male escort? Luke Hobbs. But as it turns out, Hobbs has other reasons for making sure he stays close to you.OR the Luke/You bodyguard/fake relationship fic that no one asked for.
Relationships: Luke Hobbs/Original Female Character(s), Luke Hobbs/Reader, Luke Hobbs/You
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

This was a bad idea.

The mantra had been stuck on repeat in your head for days. Currently, the point reiterated itself over the ambient noise of the airport bar. It looked like every airport bar you'd ever seen on TV. Cheap black furniture. Check. A wall of glass that sported a view of the airstrip. Check. Enough alcohol to drown one's sorrows and make bad ideas seem like good ones? Not quite, apparently. 

To be fair, hiring an escort hadn't actually been your idea. You'd been fully prepared to attend Grandma Jackie's 90th all on your own. That was until you had found out that your cousin Tara was engaged.

Tara had made it her mission in life to find little ways to terrorize you. You'd always thought it was great having a cousin the same age, someone who was your best buddy. At least until junior high. A month into seventh grade, she dropped you like a hot potato and started running with the cool kids. Instead of just ignoring you like they had initially, she had recounted your most embarrassing tales to all of them. That time you tripped and fell flat on your face in the middle of the mall and your dress had flown up over your ass? Yep. When you were nine and convinced you could talk to fish? You betcha. Or when you detailed your fantasy wedding to Justin Timberlake? You know it.

To make things worse, you'd spent most of junior high and high school trying to win her favor back. You'd tag along to football games just to end up spending most of your time running back and forth, getting drinks and snacks for Tara and her squad. Any time one of her friends upset her, you would spend hours on the phone comforting her. The next day, they'd be best buds again, and you were either nonexistent or the butt of every joke. Then after working your ass off for a summer, you got a car first. And who gave them all rides regularly? That would be you, volunteer chauffeur. 

Most people at least got to escape the mean girls at home. Not you. Tara's social mobility enabled her to join all the best clubs at school and garner enough attention from teachers and administrators that she was regularly showered with awards and recognitions. 

It wasn't so much that you wanted into those clubs or to receive the accolades. You had joined the clubs you wanted and gotten enough fancy certificates and tiny plastic trophies to keep your self esteem afloat. But it would have been nice if every family event hadn't turned into a celebration of Tara's many accomplishments. 

By the end of junior year, you'd finally accepted that you and Tara just weren't going to reclaim your friendship, and luckily, you found a small group of weirdos just like you to call your own. Going to separate colleges had made life even better. 

The problem wasn't so much that Tara would be there, looking perfect, beaming as her father bragged on every aspect of the Golden Child’s life while her third fiance hung on her arm. You were used to that stuff.

The problem was this particular fiance. The Dreaded Ex. Or as everyone else referred to him, Johnny. 

Johnny the artist, who you'd dated in high school, and then after college when you'd gone back to live at home for a couple of years. Johnny who you'd moved in with and helped put through art school, who you'd planned to move to New York with, who you'd planned your whole life around. You'd put off getting more schooling for him and even turned down a promotion that would’ve done wonders for your career at the time for him. Stupid. Never put your life on hold for anyone. 

Johnny, the one who'd spent hours with you, planning the perfect, better than Justin Timberlake wedding for months. And then two weeks before the actual wedding, he was the one who told you he just wasn't "into it" anymore. Then he'd asked how soon you could move out.

"Well if it were me," your work bestie Delphie had said at lunch a week ago after listening to you bemoan the upcoming family weekend yet again, "I'd march right in there and cold-clock 'em both. Right in front of Grand-mama."

Despite your state of near hysterical despair, the image was amusing, especially since Delphie was gesturing with a leftover crab leg that she was about to crack. 

"You see, older gals," she continued, "still need a little excitement."

You laughed. The idea held some appeal. Grandma would get a real kick out of it. She was the only one in the family who ever openly voiced her annoyance with Tara. Grandma would cut Tara off after a 15 minute presentation of her own many triumphs and pretend she didn't even realize Tara was still jabbering. And the first time you'd brought Johnny the Devil to a family event, Grandma had pulled you aside and said, "That boy ain't nothing but trouble." How you wished you'd listened. 

Cold-clocking them both would be a great birthday gift. But you'd never really been one for violence, and physically attacking Tara and Johnny would only give her another spotlight. "Probably going to pass on that one."

Delphie shook her head, cracked the crab leg, and sucked out a bite. 

“Isn’t there an office rule against seafood for lunch?" You thought about the incident a year ago when someone had warmed up leftover fish stew, stinking up the office for days. 

"You got more important things to worry about." She pointed at you with the shell of the leg.

"Yeah, like how I'm going to avoid those two. I can't miss the party. Grandma only turns 90 once. The guilt trip would last a decade at least. But I cannot deal with the two of them. Not together." You slumped in your seat, stirring the unappetizing salad in front of you.

"There's always drugs."

You took a moment to calculate the number of edibles you would need. It was a big number. And probably, it would leave you a blithering mess. Grandma might like a couple, but your parents would be  _ disappointed _ . "I don't think drugs are the answer."

She hmphed. "Then what you need is a buffer."

"A buffer?"

"Yeah, someone to run interference. Know what I would do?"

"Besides cold-clock them?"

She grinned. "Hire an escort. "

And so Delphie had planted the seed, watered it over the next couple of days, and eventually managed to talk you into calling an escort service.

Now you were waiting by yourself in an airport lounge, staring down at a $5 drink they'd charged $20 for, and waiting for Dudley to arrive. Dudley the computer analyst was cute enough. Nice enough. He knew the deal. You'd met for dinner the night before to arrange everything. He was average height with short, dark hair and glasses. If it weren't for the fact that his side job was male escort, he'd tick off all the items on your list. It was a short list, one that set the bar fairly low. 

Dudley would make the weekend bearable. 

The only problem was that Dudley was late. You'd agreed to meet up at the bar two hours before the flight, which was set to leave at 2 p.m. It was already 12:15. 

_ Okay, he's not that late _ , you told yourself.  _ I'll give him five more minutes before I text. _

You sat at a table with a clear view of the glass doors, growing more anxious as people passed by. 

12:16. Outside the big window, you could see a plane taxiing. If you didn't make it to the gate on time, they certainly wouldn't be waiting for you. And the latest update on your flight showed it leaving on time. You took a deep breath. It was going to be fine.

12:17. You perked up for a second when one of the glass doors swung open, but deflated just as quickly. It was just some guy who looked like he'd walked out of a big and tall catalog. He barely glanced around the lounge before heading straight to the bar and ordering two shots of tequila. Glasses clinked as the bartender responded, and you dropped your head to look at your phone. Even though it hadn't left your hand, you checked it for messages. Nothing. 

You opened Instagram and scrolled. A picture of Tara and Johnny posing with Grandma and throwing peace signs popped up. Looked like the Golden Child and the Devil had arrived early. 

No doubt Grandma had already had her fill, even though she was smiling in the picture. She was wearing a tiara and sunglasses, her wiry grey-white hair sticking out in all directions.

Tara winked, hand posed just so on Grandma's shoulder to show off the glittering rock on her finger. It was probably 10 times bigger than the ring Johnny had given you. Of course, he'd immediately asked for that back when you broke things off.

Johnny was smirking, assuring everyone in cyberspace that he was so much smarter and more creative than they were. His hair was long and tousled, the way he'd kept it when you were together. You couldn’t help the memory that rushed to mind: running your fingers through Johnny’s hair, dreaming of possibilities and a future together, a future you’d never thought to imagine before.

Your mind started spinning through what-ifs and why-mes.

Crap. You couldn't do this. What had you been thinking? There was still time to back out. You could just--

"You know, your screen's been dark for about two minutes."

You blinked and looked up. It was the big guy. Up close, he looked more biker than model. Kind of a mountain of a man. Brown skin, bald head, tattoos, muscles for days. You wouldn't want to be caught in a dark alley with him. Something told you Delphie probably wouldn't mind though. "Uhh…?" Based on looks and his drink order, you wouldn't have pegged him for one of those airport small talkers. But they do say you can't judge a book by its cover.

He grinned. It was blinding. Some long-forgotten inner teeny bopper inside you melted. What was happening? This guy wasn't even your type. Probably a reaction due to the self-induced stress and personal pity party.

He stood and closed the few feet to your table. "I'm Luke." He stuck out a hand as big as your face. You leaned back for a minute and then remembered your manners and briefly shook his hand before giving him your name.

He nodded. "You mind?" He pulled out the chair across from you, barely waiting for your permission before plopping down. 

"I'm...sort of waiting on someone."

"Yeah," he put his hands behind his head, "about that. Dudley can't make it."

Your eyebrows went skyward. "How do you--?"

He cut you off. Rude. "The agency sent me. Ol' Dud had some stuff come up."

"What kind of stuff?"

He shrugged. "Didn't ask."

"But," you restrained yourself from sputtering, but only just, "he was fine last night! He couldn't even call?"

Luke waved it off like the world crumbling beneath you was no big deal. "Probably a family emergency. You know how it is."

You did not, in fact, know how it was. When emergencies arose, you always called or emailed whoever needed calling or emailing. You blinked. This meant you had no date. The thought sank in. That was it. There was no way you could go. You were just going to have to get used to years of guilt. Maybe a brief period of excommunication from the family. Besides, video chatting with Grandma was almost the same, right? 

"Well," you finally said after it had sunk in, "I appreciate you coming to let me know." You stood and grabbed your suitcase. "But someone could've just called me. I assume my deposit will be refunded."

"Why would they refund you?"

Surely he was kidding. "Because they failed to provide me with," you looked around to make sure no one was listening and then leaned down to whisper, "an escort."

"Honey, " He leaned in, "I  _ am  _ the escort."

If he'd said he was going to sprout wings and fly you to Charleston on his back, you couldn't have been more surprised. You stood back and eyed him in his skin tight black tee, designer jeans, and boots. The shirt strained hard, trying its damnedest to contain the bulging muscles. You shook your head. "Nope."

He seemed torn between offense and amusement. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I specifically requested a guy like Dudley."

He rubbed his chin. "You mean whiter?"

Your eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. "No, I don't mean whiter," you yell-whispered, leaning closer. 

An amused half grin told you he was enjoying screwing with you. "Why don't you sit back down and explain it to me then." The lack of actual request in his tone pissed you off. 

You jerked your chair back and sat down, releasing the handle of your luggage. "I asked for a low key intellectual type, someone my family would actually expect to see me with. Not a muscled hunk of look-at-me alpha male."

"So you think I'm a hunk. That's a good start."

Exasperated, you threw your hands up. "Look. I'm sure you're a great," you dropped your voice again and ground out the word, " _ escort _ , but this just isn't going to work."

"And why's that?"

"No one will buy it. Do I look like the kind of girl who brings home pro-wrestler types?"

He looked you up and down. "I think you could bring home whoever you wanted."

You scoffed. "Well I don't. I bring home…" you trailed off, not sure what to say. Nice guys? Sometimes. Average guys? Usually. You finally settled on, "safe guys."

“I can guarantee you're safe with me," he told you while giving you a look that said he was nine kinds of trouble. You hadn't known it was possible to communicate self-assured swagger with just a look, but there it was.

You held his gaze for a full minute. Was it getting hotter? Probably just the cheap liquor. You took a steadying breath. "Look, I'm sorry you wasted your time coming all the way out here. I guess the service will pay for your time by keeping my deposit." Your $500 deposit. "Hopefully you can book another job for the weekend."

"Well since your credit card is on file, I'll still be getting paid the full fee regardless. Sounds like I've got the weekend off." He leaned his chair back and crossed his ankles under the table in one of those luxurious stretches that long-legged men enjoy. "Been a while since I had one of those."

It took you a moment to process his meaning. "Are you saying they're still going to charge me full price even though they didn't deliver?"

"If you take a look at the contract you signed, you’ll see you were guaranteed a male partner for your weekend activities. And here I am."

You felt like cussing up a storm and crumpling in on yourself at the same time. How was this even a thing that was happening to you? You should never have listened to Delphie. Now, you were out more than two months rent for a stupid escort you weren't even going to use.

Your phone vibrated with a DM from Tara. Another picture with Grandma. Except this time, Tara and Johnny were on either side of her and kissing her cheeks while smiling into the camera. Johnny, the Devil, and his soon to be wife, the Golden Child, were kissing your grandma. Your. Grandma. 

Grandma had ditched the sunglasses and was staring the camera down, almost glowering, like she knew you were thinking about not coming and saving her from Tara's self-aggrandizing and Johnny's douchebaggery.

_ Can't wait to see you, cuz _ . Tara's message taunted.

You looked back up to find Luke studying you and quickly switched off the screen. 

"So what's it going to be?"

Out of options, you bit your lip. This was such a bad idea.

"I guess we're spending the weekend in Charleston together."

He beamed another mega-watter. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Can you repeat that?"

The perky airline clerk smiled and nodded, her blonde ponytail bobbing. "The flight is overbooked. We can offer you a voucher for a comparable flight and a night at the nearby Motor Lodge."

This was it. Your prayers had been answered. It had been harrowing, rushing through security after accepting your new escort, who'd conveniently managed to produce a boarding pass with all his information. You'd thought for sure there was no way you would make it to the gate before they finished boarding but had just managed it. Now, here you were, and the aviation gods were offering you a reprieve. No one could be mad at you for an overbooked flight. And surely the escort service would refund some of your money. It was a win-win.

You turned to Luke with a shrug that might have been just a tad insincere. "Guess it's not in the cards."

He wasn't impressed. "May I?" He shouldered past and stepped up to the counter. "Hey there," he gave the clerk a once-over, "Paulette," he enunciated her name slowly.

The clerk's whole body sighed and tilted. Was she seriously swooning after two seconds of attention from him? You looked on, baffled.

"Is that a rosette knot?" He gestured to the red scarf that decorated her neck that had been tied to resemble a flower. She blushed and nodded. "That's a really nice touch. Grandma would love it."

Hand to God, the woman tittered. "Thank you."

"You know, we're actually headed to Charleston for Grandma's 90th.” Nice that your grandma was suddenly his. “Can you believe that?"

"Oh, that's so exciting!" She leaned forward, her chest bouncing under her vest. After a moment, she seemed to realize that the flight delay was an issue. "I hope you don't miss it."

"Do you think there's any chance you can take a second look, see if you might've overlooked an available seat?"

She bit her lip, head tilting as she considered it, locking gazes with Luke. She took a deep breath. A couple of beats passed, and then she started tapping away at her keyboard. 

Luke glanced at you and winked. 

You couldn’t believe what you had just witnessed. Surely she was the exception and not the rule.

"Well, Mister…" she waited for his name.

"Hobbs."

"Mr. Hobbs, our economy and business classes are fully booked." She tapped away for another minute, then batted her eyelashes up at him. "But I am happy to offer you and your," she glanced your way, "traveling companion a free upgrade to first class on the same flight."

"Well how about that, babe," he wrapped his free arm around your back, pulling you closer. "Looks like we'll make it after all."

The clerk deflated, but only by a bit. Her smile was pasted back in place the next second, making the needed arrangements.

"Yeah," you agreed stiffly, adjusting to his strange, warm weight. It wasn't bad. It was maybe even a little nice. "How about that." You were pretty sure you didn’t sound the least bit put out.

And that was how you ended up with a window seat and a ton of leg room on a direct flight to Charleston. 

The plane had been in the air for about 10 minutes, and you were already wondering how long you should wait before connecting to the wifi and finding something to binge. You didn't want to be a rude "travel companion" though, and it was probably wise to get to know the guy if you were going to pull off the whole “we’ve been dating for a couple of months” thing. You turned to Luke, who was looking around warily. "So, are you a personal trainer or something?"

"Something like that." Well, that was noncommittal. He was distracted, using the advantage granted by his height to check out the other passengers.

You imagined introducing him to the family.  _ Hey, everyone, this is Luke, the personal trainer. Yeah, he looks a little like a demigod. Just ignore that. _ You weren’t sure how well that would go over. "I'm guessing ex-military or something? "

"What's that?"

"My brother does the same thing. Scans and catalogs his surroundings. Tries to be all nonchalant about it even though we all know what he’s doing.” 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“He got an honorable discharge a few years ago."

He nodded, apparently not interested in discussing the topic in more detail. Not even throwing you a bone to get this conversation going.

Well, message received. You connected to the wifi, swiped through a couple of screens, and messaged Delphie that you were in the air and had received a free upgrade to first class. "Are you expecting any trouble?" you asked Luke after a while.

He turned to you and smirked. "Always. Tends to follow me." This did not surprise you. "But, everything looks in order." The seat belt light went off. He freed himself and turned to fully face you. "I’m all yours."

The placement and size of the seats, though they were large and comfy, made it seem like you were sharing a cubicle. You suddenly felt cut off from the rest of the plane and under the microscope. "I just figure we need to get to know each other a bit more if we're going to pull this off."

"Sounds about right." He flicked his wrist. "Shoot."

"Well, what do you do for fun? And please don't say ‘work out.’"

He flashed his teeth. "Rock concerts. Old philosophy books. Cars and guns. And I love food. All food."

Okay. You could work with that. He asked about your hobbies, and you told him. "And action flicks. I'm really into those."

"Sounds like our first date."

"First date?"

"You know the first date that everyone will ask about. I took you to dinner and a movie."

"Sounds kind of safe for you." Though not altogether unappealing. You liked to have something to talk about on a first date, and movies helped loosen you up.

"Too much deviation from the standard would’ve scared you off. And I really didn't want to fuck it up." Damn, he was good at this acting thing. You could almost buy the sincerity in his voice. "The second date was a wildcard though."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, took you to a music festival. You had a little too much, threw your bra on stage, started a mosh pit. And managed to be endearing the whole time."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help laughing. You had actually been to a festival a few weeks before and had had a great time with your friends until you’d gotten stuck in the mosh pit for half an hour. You didn’t even know people still moshed. You wondered what it would've been like with him there; people probably would’ve just bounced off his body like it was a fortress.

Your phone buzzed, and you flipped it over to check it, then looked back at him apologetically.

"Go ahead. I have a couple of things to do on mine." He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Delphie had sent you a message.

_ How's it going with computer guy? _

_ Uhh, so far, interesting _ . You glanced at Luke, who seemed absorbed in his own phone business before you opened the camera, tilted your phone slightly, and snapped a picture as quickly as possible. You sent it to Delphie.

_ I can't see him past the king sized bar of man candy that just set my panties on fire. Well. He would have if I wore underwear.  _

That was a lot to take in.  _ TMI, D. And he IS the analyst. _ Well, sort of.  _ Last minute change. _

_You telling me you squeezed an upgrade out of the airline AND the escort?_ _Girl, you're on fire. You better run straight to a gas station and pick up a lottery ticket as soon as that bird lands._

_ I'll take it under advisement,  _ you replied.

_ If I was there, I'd climb that man like a tree. Whatever the price is to take a ride on that, you need to ante up. _ She sent a line of eggplant and dollar bill emojis.

You couldn't help but laugh.  _ Probably going to pass. Not really my type. _

_ When a girl goes without D as long as you have, anything with a Y-chromosome is your type. _

"So what's the verdict?" Luke asked without looking up from his phone.

"Verdict?"

"Does your friend approve of your date?" 

Dang. He had your number. Delphie more than approved, but he didn't need to know that. "You'll do." You didn’t have to look at him to know he was grinning again.

The flight itself took about three hours. You'd passed the time exchanging various bits of info with Luke, scrolling through apps, playing that dumb game that you hated but couldn’t stop playing, chatting with Delphie and your friends, and looking at a few things for work. You figured you could do some binging at the hotel and didn’t want to cut off the flow of conversation completely.

When the ocean came into view through the window, apprehension wrenched your gut again. The last time your family had had such a large scale gathering was when the reception for your wedding that didn't happen had gotten converted into an impromptu family reunion. After all, as your father had said, deposits had been made and non-refundable flights had been paid. You'd had to put on a happy face and pretend you were still delighted to see everyone, as though you hadn’t just been dumped and had to move back in with your folks. It had been a hard handful of months after that. But getting a job as a copy editor several hundred miles away had helped. And you had dated a few guys since, just no one who'd ever stuck or helped you fully get over your first love.

By now, you knew that Johnny had probably done you a favor. You had a good life now: your own place, a job you liked, space from your family, great friends. But you couldn't help that Johnny’s betrayal still stung, somehow even more so now that he was planning a life with Tara.

Since you and Luke had both carried on, deboarding was a quick affair. No need to rent a car. Taxis, Ubers, and horse drawn carriages were plentiful in the city, so you hailed a cab and headed straight for the hotel.

The way your day had been going, you'd half expected the hotel to lose your reservations or make you change rooms. But you'd lucked out at least in that area. 

"Two deluxe king suites, right?" The desk clerk confirmed after you'd given your name. They were thin, sported a platinum pixie, pulled off more makeup than your face could ever handle, and smiled warmly even though it looked like they were stuck working a double.

"That's us." When it came to hotel rooms, you knew better than to go cheap. Looked like you had made the right choice anyway because you were pretty sure there was no way your escort was going to fit on a double bed. 

"I just need a card for incidentals."

Making a mental note to avoid looking at this month's credit card statement, you reached into your wallet. But before you could finagle the card free, Luke reached across the desk, flicking a credit card between his index and middle finger. You looked at him like he'd grown another head, but he just readjusted the bag on his shoulder and ignored you. 

_ Do not make a scene _ , you reminded yourself silently. This was exactly why you'd picked a Dudley. No alpha male bullshit. "Thanks," you said tightly. 

"Not a problem, pumpkin." He reached over and squeezed the shoulder closest to him, then traced a light pattern across your back before settling his arm around you. 

You froze in place for a second and then tried to school your features so that it looked less like you'd been kidnapped by the Hulk and more like you were a carefree weekend traveler.

The desk clerk, either sensing the tension or super absorbed by the work, pointedly ignored you both. A minute later, they returned the card and slid a receipt over for Luke to sign. Then, they set two keycard envelopes onto the desk. 

You swiped the keycards and started for the elevators. Luke had insisted on carrying your suitcase, even though it was light and easily rolled, so you left it with him, ignoring the fact that it probably made you look bitchy. You took your frustration out on the Up button. 

Luke was on your heels. "You know, those things don't require a lot of force."

You gave him a dry look. The elevator dinged, and the doors swung open. Stepping in, you checked the cards. Rooms 413 and 415. You pressed 4 on the panel.

"Alright, lay it on me," he said, now leaning against the far wall of the elevator.

"Should I expect to battle with the machismo all weekend?" You didn’t know how well you could handle that on top of the family drama that was sure to ensue. 

"If we're going to make this believable, you're going to have to give up a bit of that control." The elevator reached the fourth floor, and you both got out and started for the rooms. "No one is going to believe that a... How did you put it? A 'muscled hunk of look-at-me alpha male'?" You were surprised he remembered that so clearly, "is going to let his woman foot the bill."

As archaic of a view on gender roles as that was, he probably wasn't wrong, but it wasn't like you had to put on a show for anyone yet. "And I'm sure that the hotel clerk was really concerned about us fitting our gender roles." 

He shrugged it off. 

You stopped in front of 413 and looked up at him. "Fine. I'll pay you back. But try to reign in the primal displays of power."

"We're all a little primal." Was he...smoldering at you? 

You tried hard not to think about your primal instincts. Your mind betrayed you instantly, flashing a quick, graphic scene of him pinning you against the door as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

Hooboy, maybe Delphie was right and it had been too long. Something flashed in his eyes, like he was reading your thoughts. You broke away from his gaze and reached for your bag. Instead of giving it over, he gestured for you to open the door. 

The act of chivalry was nice but annoyed you, mostly because you needed to get away from him for a while. You swiped the card and let yourself in. He followed you.

The suite was spacious for an older, downtown hotel that had been recently renovated. There was a small sofa that probably pulled out, and even a coffee table. The bathroom was across from the sitting area and had a tub that you might actually be able to take a bath in. And the bed was large and luxurious, with fluffy white covers and a deep green runner. The tv was mounted on the wall opposite the bed, and a dresser housing a small microfridge sat under it.

You went straight to the window to check out the view. It was nice. You were overlooking the shopping district, but could just make out one of the elegant white churches and the wharf just beyond. The sun was just setting, painting everything in orange, pink, and purple hues. You thought about how nice it would be to walk down to Waterfront Park.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone rang out with a video call. It was your sister-in-law Alexandria. You turned so that Luke wouldn't be in the frame when you picked up. 

"Hey doll," she used the nickname your brother had called you for years that she had adopted. Anyone else, you probably would've iced out for it, but you liked Al. She was Costa Rican but had been born in the States. Her hair was dark and wavy with blonde highlights she’d added. She and your brother Malachai had met in the military and had been married for about four years. "Mom wants to know when you and your man are going to be here."

You glanced up in time to see Luke smirk at the comment. He was making his way into the room slowly, eyes carefully going over every detail. Why was he still in your room? You noticed your suitcase in his hand. "You can put that by the couch if you don't mind." You gestured and set the keycards for 415 on the corner of the bed where he could grab them. He nodded absently.

"Is he there now? Let me meet him!"

"Oh, uhh…"

He didn't miss a beat, setting the luggage down and coming to stand beside you at the foot of the bed. He squeezed himself into the frame, which is to say he stood slightly behind you and waited for you to tilt the camera up enough to get him in the shot. This resulted in a slow pan up his chest to his face.

"Girl," she drew out, "if your brother hadn't put a ring on it…"

Luke laughed.

You rolled your eyes and made introductions. 

"It'll be nice to know someone besides your lovely sister when I face the firing squad."

"Believe me," Al told him, "you're going to need all the allies around here you can get. So what time will y’all be over?"

"I don't know," you shrugged. "When’s breakfast?"

"Breakfast?! Doll, Mom is holding dinner for you. You'd better get your butts here soon."

Your dreams of a walk in the park, followed by ordering a pizza and eating it on the comfy hotel bed while watching whatever 80s movie was playing evaporated. "Tonight?"

"You have got to be kidding me! What do you think this weekend is about? Now get over here and save me from the insanity. "

You sighed. "We'll be there soon."

“ _ Soque _ !” she hurried you..

"Give us an hour," Luke said.

Al nodded once and disconnected. You sighed and turned to sit on the bed.

Luke was already moving around the room again. He opened and closed all the drawers in the dresser, checked the fridge, peered down into the lampshades.

"Are you seriously shaking down the room?"

"You can never be too careful." He walked into the bathroom and rustled around. "Besides, you should always check for damages when you first check in. Otherwise, you might get charged."

It made sense, but you couldn't help but think he was acting like a paranoid movie spy. "Look, I need to shower and get ready. Why don't you go make sure your own room is as safe as mine?"

"Don't worry. My room will be the safest in the hotel."

"Oh yeah?"

"I'll be in it."


	3. Chapter 3

You sighed, inspecting yourself again in the full-length mirror. Unsure of who all was coming to dinner and how formal your mom expected you to be, you'd played it safe with some dark pants and a nice blouse. On the outside, you looked good, every bit the calm and collected woman you were not on the inside. You had been expecting another twelve hours to prepare yourself, but your family had other plans.

"Okay," you said to yourself, "this weekend is not about you. It's about Grandma. And you're going to do all you can to make sure she has the best damned birthday ever." You nodded to yourself then pocketed your phone and other things just as someone knocked on the door.

Even though you figured it was your date, you checked the peephole. Luke stood back with his head cocked to the side, one hand in his pocket and the other holding something blurred by the edges of the lens. 

He was someone else you needed a break from. You couldn't figure out how to handle him. Maybe he was new to the escort gig. You figured that pleasing the client was a pretty big component of the job. One minute, he was amicable, and the next, he was all swagger. And he said you were the one with control issues.

Taking a deep breath for strength, you opened the door. Apparently having also changed for dinner, he was now wearing a white dress shirt that actually allowed him a little room to breathe and a pair of grey slacks. He looked like he'd just walked off the cover of GQ.

An unexpected wave of attraction rippled through you, a distant part of your brain wondering how many dollar bills the eggplant would cost and exactly how much eggplant you’d be buying. You ignored your inner horn dog and looked down at the bouquet of flowers in his hand, then back up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"For Grandma. Hotel convenience has a bit of everything. "

Thoughtful. "You're pretty good at the whole charm thing." That was, except when it came to charming you.

"This is just the tip of the iceberg. "

You tried not to think of the tip, or the whole iceberg. It was hard.

“I think we should have a talk before we go.”

Something about the way he said it put you on high alert. “About?” You felt like your earlier conversations had pretty much covered the gamut. If he could just stop stepping on your toes half the time, things would be fine. You crossed your arms under your chest and stepped back to allow him in, not missing his quick glance at your cleavage. 

He sauntered in, set the flowers on the coffee table, and man-spread himself over most of the couch. “It’s about getting physical.”

_ Oh shit _ , you thought,  _ he must’ve seen Delphie’s messages _ . “Whoa, I’m not planning to purchase any additional services.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Additional services?” 

You blinked.

He blinked. 

A smile slowly spread across his face. “Not that kind of physical.” He waved it off. “You flinch every time I touch you. It’s a problem.”

“I do not.” As soon as you said it, you thought back to his casual touches at the airport and in the hotel lobby and realized that he was right. Damn. “It’s just, you know, a little awkward.”

“Awkward or not, it’ll be a red flag to anyone who sees.” He crossed one ankle over the other knee. “They’ll either assume there’s trouble in paradise or figure out that this,” he gestured between the two of you, “isn’t legit.”

Your face wrinkled, annoyed that he was making good points. “Fine. I’ll try to do better.”

“Nuh uh, come here.” He crooked his index finger at you. “We need to practice.”

“Practice?” Seriously? “We don’t really have time for this.”

“There’s always time to get things right.”

You huffed out a sigh, sensing a standoff. You knew he made good points. It would look strange if you avoided touching altogether and worse if you locked up every time he grazed you. Besides, if you were actually dating him, even if it was the first date, you would have probably breached the touch barrier after so many hours together. After another minute of consideration, you gave in and sat beside him. 

Your sides were about a palm’s width away, but you could already feel his radiating warmth. _ It’s not weird _ , you assured yourself.  _ Just pretend you’re an actress in a movie. _ You’d sat closer to strangers. No big deal.

He draped one of his big arms across the back of the sofa, close enough to brush the baby hairs at the nape of your neck. “Relax. I’m not going to maul you.” 

What did he know? He wasn’t the one cozying up to a guy the size of a bear. It wasn’t like you were ramrod straight. Still, you took a deep breath and let it out, locking eyes with yourself in the mirror, which showed a partial view of you and Luke. You had thought it would look weird to see yourself sitting with someone his size and stature, who looked so different from the men you usually dated, but you just looked like any regular couple.

“Now lean back and into me.”

Finally, the fact that he was coaching you on how to sit with him struck home, and a laugh bubbled out. “I’m being ridiculous,” you admitted. 

“If overthinking were an Olympic sport, I’m sure you’d have a few gold medals.”

“Probably.” The laughter helped, and you scooted closer and leaned against him. It was actually really nice when you were prepared for it and not convinced he was touching you just to show off or stake a claim that didn’t exist. After a couple of moments, you leaned your head against his shoulder and let out another long breath.

“Much better.” His voice was quieter. You turned to look up at him and realized his face was  _ really _ freaking close. He let his arm drop around your shoulders. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

You watched his mouth while he spoke. It was the first time you’d thought about his mouth outside of the easy grins and challenging rejoinders. Maybe you felt a spark of attraction after all. A little one. Microscopic at best. 

Your phone buzzed. You pulled away and straightened up to check it, seeing that your Uber had arrived. “Time to go.” 

He nodded and stood. “By the way,” he said as he held the door for you, “if you change your mind about the ‘additional services,’ just let me know.”

\-------------

Your grandmother hadn't always lived in a big white house surrounded with giant oaks dripping in Spanish moss. She and your grandfather had actually lived in a doublewide tucked away in West Ashley for most of your life. They'd met at the state fair through friends and had tied the knot a few months later. His parents had been high society and old money and hadn’t approved of his choice in a wife, mostly because she had come from poor sharecroppers and millworkers. In the end, the house had still passed to your grandfather when his parents died.

Grandpa had been gone for a couple of years now, and though Grandma missed him and spoke often of him, she was determined to enjoy every last breath she drew.

The Uber dropped you at the front door. You gave the driver five stars and a big tip, hoping karma would reward you with an uncomplicated evening. You doubted you would be so lucky, but it was worth a shot.

"Ready?" Luke asked, coming around the other side of the car.

"As I'll ever be."

He reached for your hand, and you stepped up onto the wraparound porch together. You knocked on the door, and a minute later, it swung open to reveal a lanky waif of a young man sporting a black flock of seagulls on his head.

"Oh hey," said your cousin Tony, barely looking up from his phone. It sounded as though the words required great effort. "It's you. We can finally eat."

You smiled affectionately. Tony was Tara's younger half brother, but unlike Tara, he was actually pretty sweet if a bit antisocial. "Nice to see you too, Tony."

"What? Oh, yeah." He waved you inside and closed the door behind you. 

"Tony, meet Luke."

“Hey, man.” Luke released your hand and reached to shake Tony’s.

Tony stopped looking at his phone long enough to take in Luke. "Wow. You're pretty big."

"I get that a lot." He stretched his hand a bit farther.

"Oh, sorry. I don't really like to do hand stuff."

"Got it,” Luke said, glancing at you. “No hand stuff.”

"Everyone's in the great room, talking about Tara's wedding."

Super. "I'm sure Grandma loves that."

Tony snorted. "Shayeah, right."

The old hardwood floor thundered as quick footsteps approached. Your mother turned the corner. "Well it's about time." She wiped her hands on the lacy floral apron she wore over her dress. "I thought you said your flight would be in at seven." She came in for a hug.

Nothing beat your mom's arms. Every time you saw her, there was a new wrinkle or grey hair, reminding you that your time with her was limited. You breathed in her scent and felt your anxiety start to melt away. "It did, but you didn't mention you wanted us over for dinner."

"Didn't I?" she asked, pulling back. "Well, you know we all wanted to see you." She looked up at Luke. "And this must be the man you’ve been dating who I've heard so little about." No one knew the art of the subtle guilt trip quite like your mom. “I’m Cheryl.”

"Mom, meet Luke."

Luke came forward and gave your mom a big side hug. 

Mom pulled back all smiles, the urge to guilt quenched, at least for now, it would seem.

Luke plucked a pink and white stargazer lily from the bouquet in his other hand and held it out to her. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh my," she blushed and took the flower. You couldn’t believe he'd made your mom blush. He was right. You'd only seen the tip of the iceberg so far. "Well go on," she said after a moment, "go meet everyone else. They're all ready to eat."

"Do you need any help with supper?" You prayed the answer was yes.

She shook her head, the look on her face clearly showing she knew what you were up to. "Go on, before your grandmother throws a fit."

Luke caught your eye. “Let’s do this.”

As your mom headed back the direction of the kitchen, you led the way to the great room, Tony trailing you and Luke. Eyes still glued to his phone, your cousin hooked in a set of earbuds. Lucky.

The great room had high ceilings and marigold wallpaper that was speckled with flowers of different muted colors. Huge windows every few feet opened the room, which was filled with sun during the day. Burgundy carpet with gold filigree designs zigging and zagging every which way covered the floor. A grand fireplace sat at either end of the room, which spanned one whole side of the bottom half of the house. Outdated, potentially antique pieces of furniture sat here and there, allowing for whole room conversation as well as small group breakaways. You had never known much of your great grandmother, but you could tell a lot of planning had gone into decorating a house that would easily facilitate her social gatherings.

“This is...unexpected,” Luke said beside you,  _ sotto voce _ .

“Trust me, none of us really fits in here." The room was only filled with a large handful of people tonight. Your dad, brother, and his wife, Grandma, your uncle, his new wife, Tara, and Johnny.

“I just think," Tara was saying, "that beach weddings are so overdone. Besides," she wrapped herself around Johnny, and dropped her voice, "it would be bad luck to get married at IOP since Johnny has a past there."

Ah yes, she was referring to the pier at the Isle of Palms where you and Johnny had planned to have your ceremony. What excellent timing you had. 

You stepped further into the room, and someone cleared their throat. "We're here," you said weakly.

Tara had the grace (or maybe the gall) to look embarrassed. 

"Well I think if you've found your soulmate and take vows in front of family and friends, it doesn't really matter where you're doing it, " Luke said. Wow, jumping right in there. Maybe the bravado could be helpful after all.

"That's a quaint thought," Tara replied. The way she used the word quaint made it obvious she didn’t think him capable of much intellectually. 

"Quaint," Luke muttered. "That's a first."

Nice to know you wouldn't be the only target of Tara's potshots this weekend.

"And who is this handsome fellow?" Grandma asked. 

You headed for Grandma, who was sitting in an oversized armchair that made her look tiny. You reached down and gave her a long hug before stepping back. "Grandma, everyone, this is Luke."

Luke knelt in front of Grandma and presented her with the flowers. 

"Well, finally, someone who knows how to treat a gal." She took the flowers and patted his cheek. "Course, it don't mean nothing if you ain't taking good care of her," she cut her eyes to you and then assessed him closely. 

"I'm doing my best, ma'am. "

After a minute, she nodded. "Now go sit over there," she pointed at a settee across the way, "and take your time. I'd like to appreciate the view."

A chorus of groans went up. You and Luke chuckled.

He did take an extra second or two crossing to the sofa, and Grandma was right. The view was worth appreciating.

She looked up at you and grinned. "Wouldn't mind seeing him in a pair of blue jeans."

"Hear, hear," Alexandria agreed.

"Alright, enough ogling the new guy." Your brother stood and reached over to shake Luke’s hand. “I’m Mal, the brother. Nice to meet you.”

Luke nodded. “Likewise. I hear you’re a vet. Thanks for your service.”

Mal ducked his head, never one for much praise. “I run a kickboxing club now. You’re welcome to come check it out sometime.”

“I might do that.”

“And you met Al earlier,” you interjected, moving to sit by Luke.

“I do massage therapy.” She wiggled her fingers.

Mal sat and draped his arm around her. “I‘m right here, babe.”

“What? It’s not like I offered any free sessions. A girl’s got to advertise.”

Mal just kissed the side of her head and huffed a laugh. Al may have been a shameless flirt, but everyone knew she was head over heals for her husband. 

“What do you do, Luke?” your father asked.

“This is my dad Charlie,” you said, giving your dad a pointed look.

“Personal training, mostly. I hear you’re retired.” He stood and gave your dad a handshake. “Congratulations.”

Your dad, apparently satisfied that Luke had a job and firm grip, nodded and sat back. 

“Ever work with any celebrities?” Tara asked.

“Here and there.” Luke returned to his seat. 

“I’m Tara,” she went on. “I’m a loan officer, but I also do commercials for Southeastern Shores Bank,” she tried to brag casually and gauged Luke’s reaction. He didn’t crack. She wrapped herself more tightly around the Devil, reminding you of an octopus with its prey. “And this is Johnny, my fiance. He’s an artist.”

“That so?” Luke leaned back, putting his arm behind you and feathering his fingers over your shoulder. You didn’t flinch at all this time, and tilted a bit closer. “We were actually thinking of trying to get by one of the galleries while we’re in town. Are you featured anywhere?” 

You hadn't talked about visiting any art galleries at all, but you were curious to see where this was going.

Johnny blinked, and Tara pursed her lips.

“Mainstream art’s not really my scene,” Johnny said after a minute. “It’s mostly trust fund babies being floated by their parents’ friends anyway.”

“Not sure how Shepard Fairey and West Fraser would feel about that,” Luke replied. You tried to hide your surprise at his knowledge of a couple well known local artists.

Johnny leaned forward, clearly itching for the opportunity to defend his views, but Tara’s father cut him off. “Johnny just accepted a commercial contract with the county to assist in restoring dozens of paintings in the local government buildings.”

You were shocked, first that your uncle would defend Johnny--he’d always hated Tara’s previous boyfriends--and second that Johnny would in his words “stoop” to restoration. He’d always believed that “the old should be replaced with the new in order to reflect the progressions of the generations.”

Luke nodded. “That’s something.”

“And this is my uncle Anthony and his wife Michelle,” you waved a hand to the final two people in the room. They all traded nods and pleasantries.

“So,” Tara said to no one in particular, “Daddy thinks a December wedding would be best, but I’m thinking we could pull off October.”

October? It was already July. “Of this year?” you asked.

“Of course.”

“Why so soon?” you wondered.

“Well, I guess since everyone else here already knows, I might as well tell you.” She hugged Johnny closer, if that was possible, and beamed. “We’re pregnant.”

Your world went out of focus. Tara had already been engaged twice before, so you’d only taken the engagement to Johnny half-seriously. You figured after a good six months of stringing each other along, they would give it up. But this time was different. Whether they made it down the aisle or not, a baby meant Johnny was technically part of the family. Tara’s real mother, though no longer related by marriage, still came to all the major gatherings for her children. That meant potentially dealing with both of them at least once a year, every year.

You felt Luke squeeze your arm. “Congratulations,” he was saying.

You forced a smile onto your face. “That’s great news.”  _ Regroup _ , you yelled internally. This was not the end of the world. You were past this. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Tara hadn't even criticized you since you'd come in. Maybe she was changing. 

“So that’s an interesting top,” she said, looking at your shirt.

Then again, maybe not.

“You know,” Grandma said, “I had a good friend who got married when she turned up pregnant. Boy did she have one  _ ugly  _ baby. Head looked like a moldy orange.”

Everyone’s head swivelled to look at her.

“Lumpy,” she spat distastefully. 


	4. Chapter 4

Dinner was relatively uneventful. Tara had shaken off Grandma’s comments, and you’d shaken off hers. You weren’t quite past the whole bun in the oven thing yet but were trying not to think about it.

Your mom had made shrimp and grits, served with salad and rolls. Even though your appetite was nonexistent, you picked at the food anyway, trying to eat enough to satisfy your parents.

Tara spent most of supper volleying between complaining about the smell of the shrimp, talking through wedding plans, and considering baby names.

You tried to ignore her side of the table, spending time catching up with your siblings, parents, and grandmother. 

About halfway through dinner, Mal’s phone went off. He checked it quickly then he visibly paled before excusing himself. Al followed shortly after. You wondered what was up, but your parents hadn’t seemed to notice, and you didn’t want to upset them if it was nothing major. You’d get it out of Al later.

“So what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” Luke asked.

“I want to go to the aquarium, but that square over here,” she glared at your uncle, “says I can’t.”

“Mother, a woman your age can’t go doing all that walking. Cheryl told me what the doctor said."

“The doctors make recommendations. They don’t get a say in my life.” Grandma had COPD and probably should've been on oxygen but refused to take it. You could understand your uncle's concern. The aquarium was huge, and it was sure to be hot and insufferably humid tomorrow. But you also knew none of the above would stop Grandma from doing something she was set on.

“What if you take the wheelchair?” your mother suggested, ever the peacemaker between her mother and brother.

“A wheelchair?” Grandma looked scandalized. “What will people think?"

“That you need assistance, which you do,” Anthony insisted.

“I’d like to tell you what you need. You’re no spring chicken yourself, but don’t think you’re too old for me to turn you over my knee.”

Anthony huffed.

“Mother,” your mom chided softly.

Luke hid a laugh behind a cough. You didn’t bother hiding your own.

Grandma looked over at the pair of you, shrewd eyes calculating. “I’ll tell you what,” she pointed at you, “if your handsome fellow will agree to push me, I’ll take the chair.”

Well, that was a surprise. It wasn’t like Grandma to give even an inch. You looked up at Luke.

“It would be my pleasure,” he said, beaming at Grandma.

Mom and Grandma sighed happily. Anthony looked annoyed with the whole thing, but you didn’t much care what he thought. Your dad had spent the whole time singularly focused on the food. He was experienced enough to know the family dynamics at play.

Mal and Al returned shortly after that. Both were obviously pissed, which threw you for a loop because they were always so even tempered and jovial. 

"What's up?"

Al sighed. "The idiot above us flooded out the apartment.”

"What? That's crazy."

"You're telling me! This isn't even the first time. I can't believe they haven’t already evicted him.”

"What are you guys going to do?"

She shrugged. “We can’t get in for a couple of days to check the damage. They’re having to bring in a wet vac crew."

That sounded like a lot of water damage.

Your brother stopped brooding long enough to say, “We have to find a place for the night. "

“Johnny and I would love to have you,” Tara piped up quickly, “but we’re in one of the new lofts from the old converted mill, and I’m not sure you’d be comfortable since there’s only one bedroom.” You knew the apartments she was talking about; they were on the artsy side of town and came at a premium. How convenient that the empty offer also gave her an opportunity to brag.

“Surely you can find a room,” your dad said. “Let’s see what’s available.” He pulled out his phone. Your dad preparing to book a hotel over his phone? Impressive.

“Already checked, Dad. No vacancies, at least not in a place that my beloved princess over here,” Mal put his arm around Al, “will deign to stay in.”

“I am  _ not  _ risking picking up bedbugs from a no-tell motel. A flooded room is bad enough. I’m not taking chances of making things worse.”

Mal sighed and made a “see what I mean” gesture.

“Well, you could always sleep on our couch,” your mom offered. Your parents had moved to a tiny condo on the beach once you and Mal had left home for good. The location was great, but you got claustrophobic just thinking about staying there. Worse, your mom had a little yappy dog named Pookie who hated everyone but her and loved to pee on shoes.

“Thanks, Mom. It’s an option.”

Al gave you a deer in headlights look that made it clear it was  _ not _ an option. You didn’t blame her.

“We could always squeeze you in here,” Grandma offered. Anthony, Michelle, and Tony were staying with her while their place was renovated. You couldn’t imagine being cooped up with your uncle for that long.

Al and Mal cast a long side glance at each other, probably trying to figure out how to delicately reject.

“You know, we have two rooms,” Luke spoke up. Wait, no he didn’t. He did not just offer up one of your rooms. Even though you knew it was the right thing to do, you shot him a wide-eyed glare. He just raised an eyebrow, as if it hadn’t crossed his mind why you might be hesitant to offer. 

“Seriously? That would be so great!” Al leapt at the option.

You sighed and did some mental cursing. “Yeah, of course. We’d love to have you guys next door.”

“Why did you book two rooms?” Tara asked.

_ Shit. Think quick. _ “Well, it’s only been a couple of months, Tara,” you levelled your glare her way. “We’re taking things slow.” You were impressed by the pointed note in your own tone. 

“How did you two meet?” Johnny asked softly.

Whoa, when had the focus of this conversation turned onto you?

“I saw her at a bookstore.” You were learning not to be surprised that Luke could roll with anything. “She helped me find something I’d been looking for.”

You smiled at the pretend memory. You racked your brain for old philosophers. “Kirkegaard, right?” 

“That’s right,” he smiled back. “Made me work for her number, too, but it was worth it.”

And as it turned out, your escort, even though he wasn’t quite whom you’d had in mind, was well worth it as well.

Johnny and Tara sat back in their chairs simultaneously. What a pair.

“Well, now that all that’s settled, let’s get to that cheesecake I saw your mother with earlier,” Grandma said. “I have to turn in soon and get my beauty rest.”

\-------------

Mal drove you all to the hotel in his extended cab pick up. You and Al sat in the back so the men could have all the leg room. The drive was relatively quiet, conversation ebbing and flowing easily enough. Still, there was a certain tension, which you attributed to Al and Mal’s frustration over their apartment. You certainly couldn’t blame them.

Once you arrived, Mal asked to speak to Luke for a few minutes. The request caught you off guard, but Luke quickly agreed.

“Think you have something I can wear in the morning?” Al asked.

“Sure. Let’s go look.” Leaving the guys behind, you led her upstairs to your room. The two of you weren’t exactly the same size, but you figured she could make something work, at least until she could get to the store in the morning.

“So,” she said as she rifled through your bag, “Luke’s pretty cool.”

He had his moments. “Yeah,” you agreed.

“Will this be your first time spending the night with him?”

You nodded. “I guess it’ll be interesting.” To say the least.

“You know I’m going to need all the details.” She sounded as excited as she would’ve if you were still teens.

You laughed. “You have a husband. I’m sure you know how it all works.”

“A girl’s still gotta live vicariously.”

“I’m not sure how much vicarious fulfillment you’re going to get out of me recounting our first time fumbling around.” Especially since that first time wasn’t going to happen.

She was holding a pink shirt up for inspection and cut you a look. “I don’t think a man like that is going to be fumbling anything, especially not in bed.”

You just shrugged. In your experience, the first time with a guy was usually a throwaway. You said as much.

“Are you telling me you’ve never had a really hot, earth-rocking first time?”

“I don’t really believe that sort of thing happens to most people.”

“Oh girl,” she sat on the bed beside you, “I hope I’m right about Luke and that he proves you so, so wrong.”

You gave her a good-natured eyeroll.

“I’m serious. Believe me, I had my share of duds, but the first time I hooked up with your brother…” she closed her eyes and bit her lip at the memory, then sucked her teeth. “I mean, multiples--”

“Aaaand that’s enough of that. I do not need to hear about my brother’s sex life.”

She laughed for a second, and then a serious look came over her. “How are you doing with the whole Tara and Johnny bringing their spawn into the world thing?”

All the sex talk had been a good distraction from it. You grimaced. “How long have you guys known?”

“Mal and I just found out earlier tonight before you got in, but apparently Mom and Dad have known for weeks. I guess they weren’t sure how to tell you.”

You nodded, having figured as much. “Honestly, it kinda sucks. I mean, I know I should be happy for them, new life and all that, but…” you carried off. Al knew the history, had been there for the whole Johnny fallout years ago, and had also had to put up with Tara. “It’s hard to picture two people less ready to be parents.” 

“I don’t know about that.” She stared off into space, her hand absently touching her middle.

Your eyes widened in realization. “Are you kidding me? You too?”

“Yep. A couple of months along. We just found out about a week ago. You’re actually the first person I’ve told.”

You hugged her in excitement. “You and Mal will be great parents.”

“I hope so. All I do now is worry. When Mal got that message tonight..I-I mean,” she stuttered, “about the apartment, I just got so upset and frustrated. I just don’t get it. Why would someone do something like this to us?”

You rubbed her back. “I’m sure the hormones aren’t helping. And if it means anything, the guy probably didn’t do it intentionally.”

“Guy?”

“The tenant who flooded you," you clarified.

She nodded. “Yeah, probably not. I still hope they kick him out though. What a douche.”

You jumped when you heard a knock at the door and stood to get it.

Al jumped up at the same time, rushing forward. “I’ll get it.”

O...kay. Maybe those hormones really were messing with her head.

She looked through the peephole and then let out a long sigh before opening the door.

Mal stalked in, tension still rolling off him in waves. Luke wasn't far behind, his bag slung over his shoulder. You assumed he'd grabbed it from his room. He unzipped it and, with little ceremony, drew out a shirt and a pair of jeans, which he passed to Mal.

Your brother was a couple of inches shorter and not nearly as broad as Luke, so hopefully the temporary clothes wouldn't be too ill-fitting. "Thanks, man." He tucked them under his arm and started walking the perimeter of the room, checking nooks and crannies.

This again? "Luke already swept the room."

"A second set of eyes never hurts, doll," your brother replied, not pausing in his task.

"Geez, paranoid much?"

"Caution," he corrected, "not paranoia."

“I fail to see the difference at present.”

"Caution keeps people alive, " Luke told you.

Great. Two alphas. 

After another minute, Mal, apparently satisfied with the room, came over and pulled you into a tight hug. "I'm your brother. It's my job to keep you safe."

You smiled at the sentiment and hugged him back. Those baby hormones must really be getting to them. Since you weren't sure if he was okay with Al letting their secret slip, you didn't say anything about the pregnancy. You did, however, yawn.

Al did the same and smiled through it. "Long day."

No kidding. "Find something for tomorrow? "

She picked up the pink shirt and a pair of your jeans.

"We'd better try to get some rest," Mal said. "Mom wants us over for breakfast. Grandma's day is going to be packed."

You were sure of it. Everyone said their goodnights, and after the requisite fifteen minutes of Southern goodbying, you were finally left alone in the room with Luke. 

"What did Mal want?" you asked, hoping to avoid too much awkward tension.

"The usual threatdown. If I hurt you, he'll pull out my toenails, remove my manhood, kill me slowly, in the most painful and creative ways, and chop me into little pieces that my family can't recognize. Standard shovel talk.”

Ugh, men. Honestly, you were a grown ass woman. You didn't need your brother to fight your battles. "Sorry about that."

He waved it off. "Man loves his sister. I've done the same."

"You have a sister?" Heaven have mercy on her.

"Yeah, she's pretty great." 

You nodded and dug your pajamas out of your bag. "She live in LA too?

“Thereabouts.”

Ahh, back to the non committals when it came to his life. It was good because it helped you remember that you had a business relationship, not a friendship. 

"So," he said, unbuttoning his shirt, "this going to be a problem?" The dress shirt opened to reveal a thin, white undershirt. 

You caught yourself staring and tried to stop. "You mean sharing the room?" It certainly wasn't how you'd intended things to go, but so far, most of your plans had been going awry, so one more wasn't really the end of the world. You had a safe place to stay, and the sacrifice was for the benefit of your family. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Good." He pulled the dress shirt out of the waist of his pants and shrugged it off his shoulders. 

"I'm going to go change in the bathroom," you pointed as though he didn't know the bathroom was just across from you. And there was that awkward moment you’d been trying to avoid. You retreated quickly without awaiting his reply.

Slapping your clothes down on the counter, you leaned forward and stared at yourself in the mirror. "What the fuck?" you demanded. You had known this weekend would be strange and uncomfortable at times, but you had for sure been hit with a lot more than expected. 

You sat on the toilet and put your head in your hands.  _ Just a day and a half left to go _ , you promised yourself. Tomorrow would be busy, hopefully busy enough to keep you from overthinking about Tara and Johnny's news, Al and Mal's issues and anxieties, and the fact that you had hired an escort to help you handle it all who was...actually doing a damned fine job at it. Your family had bought into the whole setup so far, and, as predicted by Delphie, he was proving to be an excellent buffer.

"Just get through tomorrow, and then you can get back home," you promised yourself. “Things can go back to normal.” You liked normal. It was predictable and easy.

You stood back up and began to change clothes and go through your pre-bed routine, unable to stop yourself from thinking about the man outside the door. He was frustrating as Hell, but you were glad he was there. He was a good partner, considerate, quick-thinking. If it weren't for the occasional unpredictability and the displays of masculine power, he'd probably be the best escort in the business. Of course, then he would probably be your type, and you knew that a full on attraction to a slick escort was a bad road. Not just for your purse but for your heart. You were not a no strings girl, a lesson you learned the hard way from a couple of post Johnny rebounds. 

Soft singing reached your ears. You couldn't quite make out the words, realizing after a minute that they weren't in English. It was Luke. Though you were finally ready for bed, you stood listening anyway. The song was soft and sweet, a lullaby of some sort or at least it sounded like one. It wasn't long before the singing stopped.

"Goodnight, sweetheart, " you heard him say.

You smiled. You hadn't really thought about whether or not the guy you were faking a relationship with was in an actual relationship. It certainly sounded that way. If so, she must be a strong woman (assuming he was into women) to be comfortable with his profession.

The discovery didn't really bother you. As far as you were concerned, Luke Hobbs was already off limits. In fact, the awareness that he was with someone would probably make it easier to remember that you were both just playing a game together.

You opened the door to find him sprawling on the pull-out bed, a couple of pillows propping him up. He set aside his phone and put his hands behind his head, looking up at you. He was still wearing the thin white tee and a sheet covered his lower half. Were his feet not hanging about six inches over the edge, he would look right at home.

A laugh bubbled out before you could catch it. "You can take the big bed. I think it's a bit more your size." Talk about understatement.

"This is fine. It's a step up from my usual out-of-town work.”

That was hard to imagine. "Really?"

"Yeah, I actually get to sleep."

You ran his words through your brain a couple of times then felt a blush creep up as his meaning clicked. You guessed most of his clients took him up on the additional services. Alright then.

He winked. "Get some rest. Sounds like we're in for a long day tomorrow."

He wasn’t wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

The sound of heavy breathing broke into your dreams. One minute, you were behind the wheel of a car dropping from a plane and breaking every law of physics, and the next, you were on a beach, arms and legs wrapped around a man's body. Lips sealed together, the two of you rolled in the surf, ensuring sand would be in all the wrong places. You arched into him, not giving a damn.

The distant melody of your phone's alarm snapped you out of it. You gasped and then moaned, disoriented and confused to find yourself in a bed that wasn't your own. The confusion passed a half second later as you fully came to. You fumbled for your phone, and after several unsuccessful attempts, managed to silence it and roll over onto your back.

Jetlag settled heavily over you. Your phone said it was 6:30, but your body protested, reminding you it was 3:30 your time, and that forcing yourself awake so early was a sick punishment.

You lay there for a couple of minutes, wondering how long your brain would be mush. One thing was for sure, you were going to need a lot of caffeine to get through the day.

While you fought a battle of wills with your own body, you became aware of heavy breathing and rolled to your side. Luke had turned on a lamp on his side of the room and was doing push ups on the floor. Flashes of tattooed flesh, hard muscles, and sand assailed your groggy brain. Your body reacted with interest, and you looked down at your torso, betrayed. Alright, then. 

You rubbed a hand across your face. No help for it. Everyone had sex dreams. The fact that you were having sex dreams about a guy you hadn’t even known for a full day wasn’t even the strangest part of your life right then. Pulling a pillow over your face, you groaned, thinking about the day that lay ahead.

You heard Luke moving around, pushups apparently done. “Morning,” he rumbled, voice still a bit husky. Thank goodness. If he were too chipper, you weren’t sure you would be able to take it. 

You groaned through the pillow.

“What’s that?”

Giving up on the possibility of trying to eek out a few more minutes of sleep, you uncovered your face and blinked up at him. He stood between your bed and the pullout in his undershirt and boxers. 

“Jetlag?”

That and a love of sleep in general. You nodded.

“Best way is to power through it.” Easy for him to say. “You want first shower?”

“Go for it.” That might get you at least another fifteen minutes.

He turned and pulled clothes from his bag, heading for the bathroom. “Don’t fall back asleep,” he warned. “You’ll feel even worse.”

Fully intent upon ignoring the advice, you rolled over in the opposite direction, eyes fluttering.

You heard him chuckle. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Once the door clicked shut, you cracked your eyes open and noticed that your phone was flashing. Sleep sang her siren song in one ear, but curiosity had already piqued your interest. You sighed and snapped up your phone, swiping it open and checking the notification.

Three of the messages were from Delphie.

_ How’s it going? _

_ How many times has Tara bragged about something that no one else gives a damn about? And what did Grand-mama say? _

_ Where are you at? I hope on your back letting Tall, Dark, and Beefy show you a good time. _

You laughed. She and Al were determined to see you get some. Too bad it wasn’t that easy.

You felt bad that you hadn’t texted her, but you’d been so tired. Even though she wouldn’t see it for several hours, you sent her a summary of the previous evening’s events.

Noticing another unread text, you swiped it open.

_ Can't wait until tonight.  _

It wasn't a number you knew, but it was local to the Charleston area. Your first thought was just a wrong number. Then again, tonight was Grandma's really big party. Friends, distant relatives, and many people you vaguely knew had been invited to the dinner cruise. Most likely, it was one of the second cousins you didn't really know who'd gotten your number from Mom.

Before you could decide on a reply, Delphie video called you.

Her screen was dark, but you could just make out her face. Like you, she was still in bed. “Are we sure that girl is actually prego? Tara is 100-percent the soap villain who fakes a baby so she can leash her a man.”

You laughed and propped your phone on a pillow. “Why are you still up?

“You know I need my dose of the drama that is your life.”

Grinning wryly, you shook your head. “Tara's an attention whore, for sure, but in my experience, her brags usually turn out to be at least mostly true.”

“Damn.”

You’d never felt a “damn” so deeply. You asked how her night had gone, knowing she'd been planning to meet up with some guy from Tinder.

“‘Nother dud. Let's hear about Mr. Goodbody.”

“Charmed almost everyone but Johnny and Tara. Gave them a run for their money.“

“I would have paid good money to see that. Speaking of paying, have you taken advantage of any other perks? That man looks like he's got a lot to offer, if you know what I mean. Bet he's packing some  _ serious  _ heat.”

You did, in fact, know what she meant. “Going to remain a mystery. He's seeing someone anyway.”

She sucked her teeth. “Ain't they all. Tell me about Grand-mama laying down the law.”

You talked her through the finer moments of the night, dishing out some of the good stuff that had been too long for a text. You were in the middle of telling her about Al and Mal’s apartment disaster when Delphie choked out a gasp. 

For a second, you thought the screen was frozen, then she breathed quietly, “God in Heaven,” she was staring at a point over your shoulder. 

A glance at your own video feed revealed why. Behind you, Luke had just come out of the bathroom shirtless, wearing a new pair of jeans and dabbling himself with a towel. Despite the level of definition that yesterday’s tight shirt had shown off, you had to admit that did little justice to the actual muscles beneath. His physique easily put you in mind of a Greek god.

Apparently, Delphie felt the same. “That’s it. I’m done wasting time on Tinder. I’m just going to get me one of those. Let him knock the back out of it once a month.”

Luke laughed.

“He can hear you, Delph.”

“Oh, right. Hey there, hot stuff. Does that service you work for have a lot of similar models available?”

He shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint. One of a kind.”

Even though Delphie knew what he was, you took the opportunity to make official introductions.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Delphie said.

You rolled over to face him. It was the first time you got a good look at the tattoos that decorated his upper arms and shoulders. Both designs were dark and fairly intricate, surely requiring hours to complete. The urge to trace the lines with your fingers, followed by your tongue hit you out of left field. You decided to blame it on the jetlag. “Maybe put the guns away?”

His eyes twinkled with mirth. Obviously, he’d seen you looking. 

“Do  _ I  _ get a say in this?" Delphie called out. 

She did not.

\-------------

Breakfast was actually quite pleasant. Johnny and Tara were no shows, and Tara's father and stepmother had gone out, supposedly to grant you more time with your folks. Tony had stayed behind, but he spent most of the time on his phone, not even making a fuss when your mom ruffled his hair and dropped a kiss on his forehead.

On the way over to Grandma's, Mal and Al had stopped at a store and picked up necessities, including a couple of outfits. Mal seemed in better spirits so far even though he'd spent most of the morning texting and making calls. 

Dad made scrambled eggs and French toast, not the fancy stuff that got too sweet and soggy, but the simple stuff with thin, store brand loaf bread. You covered yours in various sweet toppings, noticing Luke concentrated mostly on eggs. Probably took a lot of protein to fuel that body. Your philosophy, on the other hand, was that out of town calories didn't count, and you were going to enjoy every bite.

The peace was nice. No one was complaining, bragging, or trying to one-up anyone. Everyone was healthy, and even your brother and his wife, who had temporarily been put out of their home, were happy. Moments like these made you miss home when you were back in LA, just not enough to move back permanently. 

After breakfast and clean up, everyone got ready for the aquarium. Since Luke had been loaned out to Grandma for the day, your parents decided to ride with Al and Mal, leaving you, Luke, Tony, and Grandma in her blue '65 Cadillac Fleetwood.

Luke loaded the dreaded wheelchair into the trunk, and you slammed it closed, pulling out the key.

Everything was going pretty smoothly until he put out one of his massive paws and said, "Give me the keys."

_ Give  _ him the keys. Give  _ him  _ the  _ keys _ ? To your grandma's car? So that he could drive you around  _ your  _ hometown? Because he was the man? Not happening. 

"I'm driving," you told him. Okay, you had driven the Caddy before. You knew it lacked power steering and was a beast to maneuver through downtown, but damned if you were backing down now.

He came a step closer, ready to square off. "I don't really do shotgun, sweetheart. Besides, don't you think this beast is a little big for you." It wasn't really a question. 

You stared back up at him.  _ Do not back down _ . "I can handle it." You inched forward.

He looked down at you, waiting for you to give in, but you just held his gaze.

Grandma, who was already settled in the back seat, rolled down her window and called, "You can sit back here with me.”

Luke gave you one of his mega-watters, hand still hanging in the air.

You smiled back, reached up, patted his cheek, and said, "She means you, skyscraper."

He watched you for a minute, eyes growing darker, like a tiger who’d just locked onto his prey. He leaned in a fraction, eyes sweeping the length of your body.

Heat rippled over your skin, and you suddenly felt torn between retreating or stepping into him. 

Finally, he swallowed and blinked as though just realizing what he was doing. Then without another word, he smirked before turning and getting into the back with Grandma. 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and stood there for an extra minute, stunned that he backed down for once. This day was full of pleasant surprises. 

Tony, who had been standing on the porch this whole time, earbuds in and eyes on phone, looked at the car, figured out his intended seating arrangement, shrugged, and got into the passenger's seat. Luke could take some notes.

"Skyscraper, huh?” Grandma was saying as you slid into the driver's seat, “Helluva nickname."

"Yes, ma’am," he said, eyes on yours in the rearview.

With a turn of the key, the car sputtered to life, purring happily. You adjusted the air and radio and put it in gear. At the first press of the gas pedal, the Caddy groaned and lurched forward in a quick motion. Everyone jerked back and forth, but no one said anything. You eased back on the gas and started down the drive. Why you'd insisted on sticking to your guns on this one, you weren’t sure. But you were going to make the most of it.

"I always wanted a hotshot nickname like that," Grandma continued. "Couple of girls used to call me “homewrecker” back in my day, but if no one's wearing a ring, there ain't no home to wreck." This was a story you hadn’t heard; you made a mental note to ask for it later. "And Jackie don't really count."

You could feel Luke's eyes on you as you stopped at the end of the drive. When it was time to turn, you whipped the wheel to get onto the main road and swerved out into the oncoming lane. No doubt you would have taken out any approaching vehicle, which was exactly why you'd made sure no one was coming. After correcting the car, you met Luke's eyes in the rearview and smiled triumphantly.

His eyes laughed back.

"Harry would call me ‘sugar,’" Grandma continued, "but that just don't have the right pizazz. I need something that makes an impression. Something a little badass." 

Tony, apparently making out Grandma's musings over his video game, caught your eye. You shared a look of mutual affection for your grandma.

"How about Firecracker? " Luke suggested. 

Grandma lit up. "You know, Skyscraper, I'm starting to take a real shine to you. "

"Likewise, Firecracker. "

The aquarium wasn't near as big as some of the more famous ones in the nation but was the largest in the state. The location wasn’t the best for an attraction as it was downtown in the crook of the harbor. You muscled the Caddy into a handicap space in the parking garage, and you, Luke, and Tony walked Grandma up a block to the aquarium.

Everyone was waiting on your group at the entrance since Grandma was the star of the show.

Anthony stood with Michelle, Tara, and Johnny looking impatient and annoyed at the wait.He huffed when you finally joined them, coming forward to pass out tickets. Anthony loved throwing money around and making sure people were aware of each cent he spent on them. You knew that he and Michelle had their eye on Grandma’s house and it irked you to no end.

Mal’s head was swiveling around as he walked around the entrance area like he was casing the joint for a heist. Al caught your eye, glanced at her husband, and rolled her eyes in frustration. He had been doing the kickboxing thing for a while and seemed to enjoy it, but you both knew it was only a matter of time before he either joined back up or went into some type of law enforcement or other similar agency. 

Your mom was attempting to show Michelle pictures of Pookie on her phone, not that Michelle was paying much attention. She’d made it clear she had no interest in being a participating member of the family. You weren’t entirely sure why she continued to come to events but guessed it had something to do with Tara’s mother showing up half the time. 

Your dad was scanning through pamphlets on the different exhibits. No doubt he was looking forward to boring--err, informing everyone about various interesting facts for each life form and ecosystem you encountered.

Tara and Johnny stood close together and had been talking when you came up. They stopped, looking up as you all approached, their eyes going directly to you. Yeah, that wasn’t suspicious at all.

“It’s about time,” your cousin said.

“Yeah, well, we’re here now. What do you want to do first, Grandma?”

“I want to pet the stingrays.”

You started in the touch tanks. Tara screeched about the horseshoe crabs and said the stingrays were too slimy and the starfish too rough. 

As you all continued through the track of the aquarium, you began to break into smaller groups. You, Grandma, and Luke stayed together of course, since Luke was her chauffeur. Unfortunately, Johnny and Tara stayed hot on your heels. They were driving you nuts. Tara complained or nitpicked everything. The birds in the aviary sections were “loud and obnoxious and taunting” her. The snakes were creepy. The lizards were too quiet. The marshland exhibit smelled too bad.

Grandma lived in a special zone where she ignored Tara without any effort. Luke tried to buffer as much as he could, but there was only so much one could do. You’d noticed that Tara seemed to be hovering in his space, as usual searching for any chance she could find to sing her own praises.

Luke did a lot of yeahing and uhhuhing and deep breathing. You were impressed he hadn’t cracked yet.

The ocean exhibit was your favorite. It was a long, dark, winding corridor with backlit windows into various aquariums spaced throughout. At the center was the largest tank, where one of the workers would soon be doing an underwater feeding while another described the various ocean life in that particular tank. You’d seen the show enough to know it by heart, but Grandma wanted to watch, and you’d arrived just in time. A couple dozen kids and their parents had already crowded into the small seating area.

You saw an opportunity to break from the group for a few minutes of peace. As Luke settled Grandma in the area reserved for guests in wheelchairs, you asked, “Would you mind hanging out here while I look around?”

He winked. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Even though it was technically his job, relief at his easy compliance flooded you. Without thinking about it, you reached up on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek. You were thankful for the dark light because as soon as you realized what you’d done, you blushed hotly.  _ Whatever _ , you told yourself,  _ it was just a friendly peck. _

Luke caught you with a large, warm hand behind your back, stopping you from pulling away. He leaned down so that his mouth hovered over your ear. “Johnny and Tara are watching.” 

You blinked. When you’d moved to kiss him, you hadn’t even been thinking about them. For a second, it had just felt like you were getting to know someone on a normal date.

“Want to give them a show?”

You swallowed. “What do you have in mind?”

He pulled back enough for you to see his face in the low light. “How about you aim for the lips this time, and we’ll let them figure out the rest?”

You had a couple of choices. You could spend a few minutes overanalyzing it and end up either chickening out or just doing it anyway. Or you could skip the analysis and just do it. You pressed your lips to his.

Like his smile, his mouth was warm and welcoming, lips quickly figuring out what to do. Your mouths moved together, sending all sorts of sparks dazzling across your senses. It wasn’t long at all before he opened his mouth enough to suck on your bottom lip and nibble lightly. A moment later, he pulled back.

Eyes flying open, you blinked several times as you remembered where you were. A bell rang twice, signaling that the feeding show was about to begin. 

“You kids are going to have to stop canoodling so I can pay attention to the fish show,” your Grandma said.

You cringed, only now realizing that she was also watching. She caught your eye and waggled her eyebrows.

Luke dropped his hand slowly. “Stay close?”

You didn’t miss the lift in his voice that made it a request rather than a demand. You nodded. He didn't have to worry anyway. You weren't sure your knees would hold out for more than a few feet.


	6. Chapter 6

Jitters ran through your body, nerves propelling you around a couple of corners to one of the smaller windows further down the corridor. It was far enough that the noise of the show faded. In the tank, jellyfish floated around, changing slowly from blue to purple as the light hidden in the tank changed. The serene image was nothing like your insides. Your stomach was flipping in all directions, your lady parts showing early signs of interest. You hadn’t felt like this after one kiss since your first real kiss, which had been at the end of ninth grade with a soccer player named Javier who’d moved back to Honduras over the summer, much to your disappointment.

_ It was just a kiss _ , you reminded yourself.  _ He’s just doing his job. Don’t make anything else out of it. _ The pink light melted into orange, and a fat jellyfish bobbed upward, while tiny ones swam down.

The image did help relax you a little. You shivered. Despite the heat outside, the combination of blessed air conditioning, black walls, and low lighting caused a chill.

“Hey.” 

Then again, maybe it was the nearness of the Devil. You turned to see that Johnny had crept up beside you. Since he was clad in black himself, he almost looked like a floating head in the little light that was cast over him. Ugh, just a few minutes of peace, that was all you needed.

“Nature makes its own art. But humans can never leave well enough alone, always trying to make order out of the chaos.”

Good God. Had he been this douchey when you were together? In the past, you probably would’ve entertained his musings or fawned over how “brilliant” he was. Now, you could barely contain your annoyance. “I don’t think they were going for an art installation.”

“Isn’t it our mission to find art in the everyday?”

You rolled your eyes. “Their target audience is school aged children, and for most of them, this is probably a million times better than an art gallery.”

He blew out a breath. “I’ve been hoping to get a chance to talk to you.”

“And you thought now was the best time?”

“Look, I know I was a piece of shit before.” Understatement. “I was selfish when we were together." He paused, waiting for you to respond. When you didn't, he went on. "And I told Tara that you should be the first to know about us and the baby. It just didn't work out that way.”

You kept quiet, torn between fury and pain, not sure if you could hold back the tears if you admitted how much he'd hurt you. Johnny, more than anyone, had known exactly how Tara had treated you, how she had tortured you for years for the sake of her own popularity. Finding out that he had not only moved on but had done so with her, that he was going to marry her and have a baby with her, had just twisted the knife in an old wound. And now, he was stealing your peace so he could...what, ease his conscience?

“I just wanted you to know that. I know I don't deserve you or Tara or the baby. And I know I had the worst timing possible with the wedding. I mean, at least I didn’t leave you at the altar but--”

“Do you think the fact that you could have picked a worse time to break things off excuses your behavior?” you snapped.

“Well, it’s just, I couldn’t do that to you, you know. Tara and I, we’d just been messing around for a while, and I hadn’t thought it would get serious, and then it did, and I just couldn’t marry you, not like that.”

Every inch of your body froze, and for a minute, all you heard was the whooshing of blood in your ears. “You...with Tara…” you fought to get out every word, tears welling in your eyes, “when we were still together?” You finally faced him.

He paled and moved his mouth for a minute, words not coming out. “I uhh…” That was answer enough.

“How long were you fucking my cousin before you finally called off the wedding?”

“A few months,” he finally said.

A few months. He had been helping you pick out flowers and cake, letting you make payments toward the reception hall and caterers, and leading you to believe you were going to spend your lives together for months while he screwed around with your cousin. Your cousin, who couldn’t share a moment of the spotlight, who couldn’t let you have one thing she didn’t, including a wedding. Like Johnny said, he was a piece of shit. But Tara was supposed to be your family. You realized in that moment that you’d still been holding out hope that at some point, she’d grow past her immaturity and that you might be at least tentative friends as you both aged. But Tara had decided years ago that you were worthless and beneath her.

Something in your look must have changed because Johnny started scrambling. “You don’t understand. She actually got my art. She got me. We were like, kismet.” You heard the other side of his thoughts. Tara was made for him, and you were not.

What you had ever seen in him, you couldn’t remember. “Johnny,” you told him, “you’re right. You are a piece of shit. I’m just glad you’re not my piece of shit anymore.”

Without waiting for his reaction, you spun around to go find your cousin. The feeding show must have finished a few minutes earlier, but Grandma, Luke, and Tara were in the same place, Grandma watching the big tank while Tara was still trying to make conversation with Luke.  _ Your  _ date. As far as she knew, you and Luke were in an actual relationship. She was pregnant and engaged but couldn't stop herself from sniffing around the man you were with.

You marched up to her and tapped her shoulder. When she turned, you slapped her across the face as hard as you could, which, judging by the way her head snapped to the side, turned out to be pretty hard.

“What was that for?” she shrieked, cupping her cheek with a hand.

“Back. Off. For the rest of the time I’m in town, if I’m in a room, you’d better be at the other end of it, or better yet, out of my sight. You can say whatever you want about me, but if I hear it, or if you forget any sense of self-preservation and address me directly, you’re going to get way worse than that.”

The corridor kept people piping through the area, and as you spoke, a small crowd of spectators had gathered. You were sure security had already been called.

Tara’s shock evaporated quickly. She looked around, finding Johnny standing back, a guilty look on his stupid face. You could see the moment she realized the reason for your anger. Never one to be affected by shame, she glanced around at the crowd, then shrank in on herself and whined, “But-but, I’m pregnant.” 

“Don’t you think it’s kind of pitiful that you peaked so early in life that the best you can do is steal your cousin’s fiance and get knocked up? News flash, Tara: weddings and babies happen every day. You’re not more special or better than any of the rest of us.”

“But I’m the first--”

“No, Mal was the first to get married. He and Al have actually served the country. What have you done for anyone besides yourself in your entire life?”

She sputtered.

“That’s what I thought.”

A hand wrapped around your upper arm. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.” The security guy was short and a bit pudgy with big, round glasses.

“You’re going to want to take your hand off her.” Luke stepped forward.

The guard jerked his hand away like you’d burned him. “Sir, these people,” he indicated the crowd, “have paid good money to enjoy the aquarium in peace. Anyone threatening that peace is subject to forfeiting their entrance fee and being escorted off the premises.” It sounded like he was quoting directly from a rule book. 

“I think we’re just about done here.” Luke looked at you with a question in his eyes.

You took a second to contain the rage. “Yeah”, you glanced at your sniffling cousin, “she’s not worth any more of my time.” You bent down in front Grandma. “I’m sorry I ruined your day. I promise to make it up to you.”

“Ruined? I think that just about  _ made  _ my day.” She chucked your chin and winked. “How’s about we get some lunch?”

Even though it was clear you were leaving, the security guard felt the need to escort you, Luke, and Grandma all the way to the exit. Tears blurred your vision, a barrage of emotions warring for dominance. Anger, outrage, heartache, embarrassment, guilt. The last two were a result of the confrontation. You didn't regret your words or actions, but you probably could have chosen a better time and place to deal with her.

Once you were outside, you texted Al that you'd been kicked out and that you, Luke, and Grandma were going to lunch. She immediately called for the details, but you were still shaking from the confrontation and just didn't have it in you to rehash it so soon.

Since you didn’t pick up, she texted.  _ A million possibilities going through my mind _ .  _ Your brother is freaking out already. _

You struggled to keep up with Luke's quick pace to the parking garage. Pushing Grandma in her chair didn't slow his long legs down a bit. The day had heated up, and the humidity rolled off the water like a fog. You were thankful to have gone with shorts and flip flops.

As you stepped into the elevator behind Luke and Grandma, you tried to think how to tell Al what happened. She beat you with another text.

_ Oh shit. Golden Child just got here. Girl. You better pick up. _

Your phone lit up with a video call as you stepped onto the level where you’d parked the Caddy.

Instead of seeing your sister-in-law’s face, she had flipped to the rear camera on her phone.The noise of rising voices from the phone rang out in the garage. Tara was wailing, the side of her face pressed against her father’s chest. She was ugly-crying and sporting a huge, red handprint on her left cheek. 

Oh God, what had you done? What if Tara filed charges? Was that a thing she could do? Would you be able to afford a lawyer? And you still had a huge family event tonight. How were you going to get through it? As your thoughts spiraled, you caught up with Luke and Grandma again. He had already settled her into her seat in the back.

You heard Anthony tell everyone that you’d always been jealous of Tara.

“What?!” you shouted. 

Luke came to look at the phone with you.

In the aquarium, Johnny stepped forward. “It’s my fault,” he said, quiet as ever. “I told her the truth, that Tara and I were together for a while before I called off the wedding.” You couldn’t believe this new Johnny, who seemed to be convinced he could make things right with his last-minute honesty.

“What?” Al flipped the camera. “Doll, I had no idea. Are you okay?”

“I…” you trailed off. Before you could answer, Al started yelling in Spanish. You couldn’t make out a lot, only that it was directed at Mal. The camera went really shaky for a minute, and then she flipped it back around just in time for you to see Johnny trying to get up from the floor and your brother towering over him. Wasn’t hard to figure out that Mal had just decked him. You weren’t huge on violence, but a little part of you took some delight in it.

“About time,” Luke commented. You hadn’t really been aware that he was watching the scene play out. You glanced up at him, but his eyes were on your phone.

“Here we go,” Anthony addressed your parents. “You would think that you might have taught your  _ grown  _ children how to conduct themselves in public, but the evidence speaks for itself. Two assaults in a handful of minutes.”

Mal looked like he was about to turn toward your uncle, but your father stepped forward. “You have no right to talk to my wife or about my children that way,” he said, in his usual quiet cadence.

“What, you going to hit me, too?” Anthony pulled away from the still sobbing Tara, taking a step toward your dad. “Show everyone that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?”

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Your dad had served in the Navy as a young man, but you’d never seen him get physical. Oh God, how could this get worse? You were dragging your whole family down because of one single time when you couldn't control your feelings toward Tara.

Surprisingly, it was Tony who moved between your dad and his own. He didn’t say anything, just looked between them quietly and pulled off his headphones. Then he walked past your dad and stood beside your mom, who was visibly shaken. She hugged him into her side.

“Oh, that’s how it is? One son wasn’t enough? You needed to ruin mine as well?”

This time, it was your mom who launched toward Anthony. As she did, a team of several security guys approached. 

Al flipped the camera back to her. “Looks like we’re about to get kicked out, too. Where are you guys going for lunch? We’ll meet you.” Al had no trouble rolling with the punches. You thought you could learn a thing or two.

You swallowed and looked up at Luke.

“Never a dull day with your crowd, huh?”

You shook your head. If only. 

“My family’s ten times worse, if you can believe it.”

You laughed. “No way.”

“Definitely.”

The levity helped. You handed Luke the keys, not having the wherewithal to muscle the car around town after all of that. Without waiting for a reply, you got into the back with Grandma, who took one look at your face and patted your knee. You tried to give her a half smile and took her hand.

For lunch, Grandma directed Luke to take you to a rib shack for lowcountry boil. When he asked which one, she just said, "the good one." After some back and forth, you finally figured out she meant one on the hipster side of James Island. Luke plugged the location into his phone and started out of the garage.

Your phone buzzed with another text from Al. It was a picture of Tara and Johnny. Tara’s face was squished up with tears, mouth at odd angles, and there may have been some snot streaming from her nose. Johnny’s right eye was already swollen and discolored, making you want to hug your brother. You knew you should rise above. You should not take pleasure in their pain. But you couldn't stop the near hysterical giggle.

Grandma reached over and tilted the phone so she could get a better look. "Serves her right for trying to steal an old gal's thunder on her 90th."

You hadn't really thought about it from Grandma's perspective, but Tara's double batch of good news was sure to take away from the birthday celebration. Distant relatives, friends, and some of Grandma's former coworkers and associates in the community would be on the dinner cruise tonight. You couldn't help but picture Tara bragging to all who would listen, desperate for any spotlight, even her own grandmother’s. 

Though Grandma had never been long for Tara's bullshit, she'd always supported Tara as far as you knew, showing up to birthdays and other events, putting up with all the different guys she brought home, and so on. You hadn't quite realized until now how Tara's behavior affected the other members of your family. 

Several years before, Mal had happened to propose the same weekend that Tara had broken things off with one of her guys, and she’d made everyone suffer because of her own pain. When it came time for them to marry, Mal and Al eloped, preferring to avoid the family drama. Your father, who loved bragging on you and Mal to friends and strangers alike, hardly even spoke when Tara and Anthony were in the room. It would inevitably turn into a game of whose kids were most accomplished, well, kid. Anthony never bragged on his son as he did with Tara. Nearly any comment your uncle spared for Tony was a criticism. Tony was used to being ignored. When he did try to bring up something he was interested in, Tara and her father were almost always quick to cut him down.

"You know what, Grandma? We're going to make sure she doesn't steal any more of it."

Grandma grinned. "This is shaping up to be a real fine birthday."

Lunch ended up being one of the best meals out with your family you could remember. Mom, Dad, Al, Mal, and Tony had arrived a few minutes after you had. The waiter took one look at you all, offered the drink menu, and confirmed an order of two pots of lowcountry boil and a few racks of ribs. Everyone agreed, almost merrily. Minutes later, everyone was eating, drinking, and rehashing the ordeal. Grandma loved every minute.

As the meal wrapped up, your phone buzzed again. It was a text from the same unknown number as that morning, an image this time. When you opened it, you only saw a dark screen with a couple of blurry white shapes. You looked at it for a few seconds but couldn’t make out what you were supposed to be looking at since the lighting wasn’t great in the shack or in the photo, apparently. Probably a pocket shot anyway. You cleared the screen.

Luke, who was sitting beside you, leaned over. “Doing okay?”

You thought about it for a second. Your brain was still one step away from freaking out over everything, but you actually felt pretty good about it. You’d let the situation with Tara fester for far too long. You even sort of wished you’d known the truth sooner. Maybe then, you could have gotten over Johnny a bit faster and maybe dealt with Tara a couple of years sooner. Surrounded by your family, knowing they had your back, you felt pretty good. You smiled. “I am.”


	7. Chapter 7

“You mean to tell me you finally gave Tara the what-for and didn't even bother to get it on video?” Delphie demanded.

“That’s what I said!” Al piped up beside you. You were all piled into the truck and on your way to Grandma’s dinner cruise. Like any good Southern meal, lunch with your close family had lasted several hours. After lunch, Grandma wanted time to nap before she started getting "gussied up" for the night. That put you and Luke in Mal's truck heading back to the hotel while the rest took the Caddy to Grandma's house. 

Al had spent the time patiently listening to you freak out about having finally stood up to Tara and talk out some of the crazier repercussions your brain had flashed in front of you, like the one where Tara sued you for everything and somehow managed to have you imprisoned for a simple slap. Your brain had worked overtime, but Al had done a good job calming you down and insisting that your reaction was warranted. 

The men had spent time in Mal’s room, probably watching sports for a couple of hours before throwing on their dinner clothes in all of fifteen minutes. They looked good though, Mal in a navy suit and Luke in a slate blue one.

You and Al had taken most of the break between family events to get ready, but you were pleased with the results. Now that you'd had some time to process, you could celebrate your little victory. You chose to do so by sending Delphie the picture of Tara and Johnny. Every time you looked at it, you noticed something new and unflattering about her. This time, it was snot in her hair. When she had updated her Instagram story with a picture of her ready for dinner and looking her normal, perfectly put together self, it had taken all your willpower not to post the one of her in a shambles. But you’d risen above. Besides, you could always save it for later.

“Al!” Delphie brought you back to the present. “Hey girl! Heard you guys got flooded.” She had met Al and Mal a couple of times when they had visited you in the past.

“Yeah, I’m hoping to get my hands on that idiota above us.”

“But it worked out for our girl, if you know what I mean,” Delphie gave a dramatic wink.

“How did last night go anyway?” Al turned to you. “You never told me.”

You groaned. “He’s literally in the car with us.”

“Nah, he’s in man’s land up there, where they politely ignore us, right Luke?” she pitched the last bit higher.

“Huh? What’s that?”

“See? As your best friends, Delphie and I need to know the quality of the stock you’re working with.”

Though Delphie knew you hadn’t sampled Luke’s stock, she still played along. Because she was a cruel friend. Or a great one. The jury was out at the moment. “I have some theories.” She propped up her phone and then measured a length between her hands, starting at six inches and slowly getting wider. “Stop me when you think I’m about right.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, unable to hold back the laughter.

“I’m more interested in the number of times she--”

It was Mal who showed you mercy by cutting off his wife. “Alright, there’s only so much I can tune out. Save it for later, maybe when Grandma’s around.”

Al and Delphie “awwwed” as though really let down by the lack of sex talk.

“So how are you going to handle the Golden Child and the Devil tonight?” Delphie asked.

“Right now, just hoping that they stay out of my way.” You had worried over it at length, and that was about the best you could come up with. At the end of the day, they were family, and unless Grandma expressly forbade them from coming, there wasn’t much you could do. Besides, Anthony was footing most of the bill for the dinner. They were probably expecting your family to be the ones to bow out, but that definitely wasn’t happening.

“And if they don’t?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” you said at the same time that Al said, “They’ll get what’s coming to them.”

The ship was docked in Mount Pleasant, not too far from your grandma's but a good clip from the hotel. The drive and phone call had helped settle your nerves but as you all got out of the truck and started toward the pier, you felt your anxiety stirring. You closed your eyes and took a moment to center yourself. You'd made a promise to Grandma, that this was going to be her best birthday and that you weren't going to let Tara steal anymore of the spotlight. You couldn't exactly guarantee that, but you were going to do your damnedest. If that meant another confrontation with Tara, so be it. You nodded to yourself and opened your eyes.

Luke was watching you and winked. "Ready?"

As you'd ever be. You nodded, and together, you started up the pier. Mal had to go pay for parking, and Al went with him, but you and Luke headed for the ship.

You'd been to a similar event once before for Tara's high school graduation but hadn't been on an actual boat in years. Something about being out in the water, even if it wasn't on the actual ocean had always bothered you.

You went up the gangplank and, just as you were about to step onto the ship, lost your footing and tripped. Before you could react, a hand reached out and grabbed your arm. You looked up to see a short but fit man in a tux. He was pale, with a lot of curly red hair on his head and face, and blue eyes. "Careful," he said.

Luke reached you a moment later, and together, both men helped you get solidly onto the ship. Well, that was embarrassing. Two big strong men needed just so you could board a boat? Not a great start to the night.

"Thank you," you brushed them off. "I'm fine."

The guy gave you a look like he recognized you. "Malachai's sister?"

"Yes?" you said surprised. You expected this sort of thing would probably happen a lot tonight, you meeting people who you barely remembered or had only met in passing. 

"Michael Scott. I've done some contracting with your brother. Recognize you from his pictures."

That explained it. Mal was big on keeping family pictures in his office. "Nice to meet you."

He glanced at Luke, sizing him up. This was a look you were growing used to people giving your escort. Plenty of women and some men gave him looks of intent, sometimes offers. Others seemed to wonder how long they'd last in a fight against him; this guy was the latter. You thought Luke looked like he could take pretty much anyone, but he also maintained a gentle giant demeanor half the time, so it was hard to tell.

Luke introduced himself, and they shook hands briefly.

"I'm security tonight, so let me know if you need anything. Hope y'all enjoy yourselves." 

Two women came up the plank behind you. You and Luke stepped to the side. One of the women--closer to Grandma's age and accompanied by whom you guess to be her daughter--tripped in the same place you did. Michael and Luke reached for her together. 

Once she was back on her feet, Luke offered to escort the elderly woman, who introduced herself as Agatha, to the top deck.

"Looks like there may be something loose there," you said to Michael, gesturing to the carpeted gangplank. 

"Don't worry. We'll take care of it."

You nodded and turned to catch up with Luke. The yacht wasn't the biggest the company offered but was plenty big for Grandma's celebration. Topside was a short climb up a narrow stairway. The elevator was even narrower than the stairs, so you didn't even bother, figuring it'd be occupied most of the night with folks who couldn't easily do stairs.

The top deck was decorated with whites and blues, no doubt Anthony's doing. Bare bulbed string lights and banners zigzagged overhead. It was about half an hour before sunset, and guests only had a few minutes left to board. 

Grandma's cake, a multi-tiered pink, fuschia, and purple affair covered in gold and silver sprinkles sat on a far table in the corner, the most spectacular thing on the ship next to Grandma herself. 

Grandma sat at her table with a group of friends, mostly older women and men, wearing a huge tiara and a bright pink tulle dress covered in sparkles. 

"Going to be hard to steal that spotlight," Luke commented.

Tara would probably consider it a challenge. "Let's hope."

Grandma preened when Luke told her how beautiful she looked. She insisted you sit at her table, the last two spots available, and not long after, the ship set sail.

Forty-five minutes later and many zany older folks’ stories later, the sky was set ablaze with a rainbow of colors as far as the eye could see. Grandma was having the time of her life reminiscing with her friends, you, and Luke. 

The food was outstanding. You'd already finished a scallop appetizer and were working your way through the salad course when the band struck up and called people out to the dance floor. Some slow Hank Williams song you couldn’t place began to play.

“I wouldn’t mind cutting a rug,” Grandma said. She batted her eyelashes in Luke's direction, not that she needed to; he wasted no time asking her to dance.

You took a drink of champagne and were surprised when you heard a familiar masculine voice behind you.

“Jeeeeesus,” the word was drawn out slowly, “you get more good lookin’ every time I see you.”

You turned, just barely managing to avoid spilling on yourself, and looked up to see your brother's friend Beau.

Beau was tall and slim with a slightly athletic build. You'd known him most of your life since he and Mal had been boyhood friends and he’d been a regular fixture at family dinners. Beau's family was Old Charleston money, and he almost always seemed to be off on one adventure or another. Unlike your uncle Anthony, Beau's Charleston drawl wasn't the work of years of practice but flowed naturally. He had dark hair and eyes, a smattering of facial hair, and had been your first major crush.

You hadn’t seen him since the impromptu family reunion that had taken the place of your not-wedding. And now, he was standing beside you in an Armani suit and looking as good as you'd remembered. Maybe better. 

He put his hand out and asked, "May I have this dance?"

You took another sip of your champagne--okay, maybe it was a gulp--and set it down before taking his hand and following him onto the dancefloor. 

He put his hand on your hip and took your opposite hand, and a moment later, you were dancing. You exchanged pleasantries for a while, and he told you about his latest trip to Ireland.

You would've killed for this 10 years ago. He'd starred in the majority of your adolescent fantasies. But he had treated you like a kid sister since he and Mal had started running around together, so he remained safely in the "no zone." Not that he would've been open to your pursuit anyway.

“So tell me about that sasquatch who brought you here," he said after a while.

“Luke? He's a good guy.” For the most part at least. When he wasn't showboating. Actually, he'd turned out to be well worth the money so far. Possibly even better than your original choice Dudley. You tried to picture Grandma dancing with the computer guy. It just didn't jive.

“He live in LA too?”

"Yeah. We met at a bookstore." You kept with the fabricated story from the night before. Somehow, it sounded better than "we met in the airport when he took the place of my originally scheduled escort."

You danced farther into the main cluster of couples, and Beau pulled you in a bit closer. "A bookstore?" He grinned down at you. 

Your stomach flipped. Internally, you rolled your eyes at your response. You were an adult. You were supposed to be over this. "He needed help finding a book."

"Well now, that's quite the meet-cute. Been together long?"

"Just a couple of months."

The music grew louder, and when you looked up, you realized you were just in front of the band. You missed the next thing Beau said. After a moment, your confused look spoke for itself. 

He leaned in. "I asked if he served with your brother."

In the Navy? You suspected that Luke had some sort of military background but didn't know any of it. It was a good reminder that you didn't really know him at all. You shook your head, hoping to steer the conversation away from him. "He does personal training now."

"Grandma looks ready to eat him up."

This did not surprise you. You couldn't see them without turning around but were glad they were having a good time. Or at least that Grandma was. You appreciated that Luke continued to humor her. "They already have nicknames for each other." You told him about Skyscraper and Firecracker. 

He tossed his head back and laughed heartily. It absolutely did not do things to your insides. You had enough to deal with at present. You reminded yourself that as far as he knew, you were not single, and he was still off limits. 

Beau seemed to sense your sudden tension. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah…" You didn't exactly want to share what was in your head and scrambled for something else to say. "I sort of slapped Tara today."

That got you raised brows. "Do tell."

It took most of the rest of the song for you to summarize the day's events. He hugged you close when you revealed that you'd learned that Johnny and Tara had been together long before you and Johnny were over.

"Never liked that asshole. Mal and I talked about fucking him up, but your dad found out and told us it was too soon, that it would hurt you more."

You'd never known that. You bit your lip. "He was probably right. It took me forever to get over Johnny." 

"Heart's gotta heal." Beau rubbed his hand slowly up your back. "Looks like yours has been snagged by someone else now."

It took you a minute to realize he meant Luke. All this lying was starting to get a bit confusing. You nodded in response. 

"So about that slap?"

You finished telling the story. He chuckled throughout. 

"Damn sorry I missed that."

"Maybe next time."

"You saying there's going to be a repeat performance?"

You looked up to the side like you were thinking about it and grinned. "Probably not. But you never know whose buttons she'll push next."

"Where is Tara anyway?"

You'd caught a glimpse of her at some point, but so far, either she'd heeded your words or someone was keeping her out of your way. She hadn't been seated anywhere near you for dinner and you had thanked your lucky stars. You told him as much.

He chuckled again. "I've got something to confess." He leaned close, mouth hovering over your ear. "I've been taking certain liberties with you this entire time." He brushed his fingers over your nape. You shivered in response. "And it would appear that I've drawn the attention of your escort, who's headin' our way like a raging bull fresh out the stall." 

You blinked. What?

He pulled back just as a huge hand--not Beau's since both were still on you--skimmed across your side and over your back.

You looked up at Luke. He didn't exactly resemble a raging bull, but he also didn't look too pleased either. What was his problem?

Beau pulled his hands away slowly, his left palm lingering over your upper arm for just a moment. "Beauregard Stone," he offered his hand to Luke. You'd literally never heard him introduce himself as Beauregard and had to hold back a snort.

"Luke Hobbs."

They shook hands for a tense moment just shy of a pissing contest. You rolled your eyes.

"Pleasure," Beau said. He pulled his hand free. "Well, looks like it's my turn to dance with Grandma." He glanced back at you and winked. "See you later, darlin’"

"She'll be busy later," Luke said looking down at you. His nostrils flared. You could sort of see the bull thing. 

You heard Beau laugh as he went in search of your grandma. 

"What was all that about?" you asked once Beau was out of earshot.

"All that?"

"The macho bull. I thought we were past that." 

He turned his body to face you, keeping his hand at your back as the next song started. "If I were dancing and flirting with another woman right now, would that be a problem for you?"

You thought about it. Maybe. He was your escort, after all, and you were paying him to pretend to be in a relationship with you. It'd probably depend on how flirty things got. "We weren't flirting." Much.

"Is that right?" 

A Johnny Cash song started up, another slow one, and the singer began crooning. Couples moved around you, reminding you that you were still standing on the dance floor. 

"How about I show you how things looked from an outsider’s perspective then?" He stepped further into your space and reached for your arm, gliding his palm down your forearm and caressing the inside of your wrist with his fingertips before taking your hand. 

A trail of tingles followed, and you ignored it, putting your other hand on one of his bulky shoulders. You had to reach higher than with Beau, but it wasn't as awkward as you would've thought. You started moving together with the music.

"He another ex?"

If only. "Definitely not."

He narrowed his eyes, just a bit. "But you wanted it?"

Damn. He called that pretty fast. You shrugged. "He's close with Mal, might as well be another brother."

"Ah, one of those. When I was about 17, my sister had a real thing for my buddy Andre."

"Oh yeah? How'd that turn out?"

"She did everything she could think of to get his attention. Pranced around in cutoffs and her bikini top most of the time. Lot of sunbathing. Helped us with cars all the time even though that wasn't her thing. Andre was a great guy, damn loyal. Wouldn't put a finger on her."

You hmmed, thinking of the times you had attempted similar acts to get Beau's attention without any more success. It had driven Mal crazy. "Too bad for her."

"Too bad for her?"

"It sort of kills a girl's psyche when the boy she’s interested in doesn’t notice."

"Oh, he noticed alright. I caught him  _ noticing  _ her in the bed of a busted old pickup in the back of our property one night."

You laughed. "And?"

"Kicked his ass. Then got my brothers, and we took turns kicking his ass until sun up. "

"And how did she handle that?"

"Total silent treatment. A whole week. Your hand was behind his neck."

"What?" The non sequitur nearly gave you whiplash.

"A minute or so in, you put your hand behind  _ Beauregard's  _ neck."

Had you? You hadn't paid much attention. Luke gave you an expectant look. You didn't think it made much difference anyway. You slid your hand farther up and back, grazing your fingers over the back of his neck. He leaned down slightly to accommodate you. "I can see how it might look a little flirty, but it wasn't like that."

"Oh, we've just scratched the surface. So, what kind of damage did he do to your psyche?"

"He stayed loyal to Mal." You sighed. "I knew he was off limits anyway, which added to the appeal I suppose."

"Bikini tops and cutoffs?"

"Worse."

"Worse?"

You blushed and looked down. "The internet convinced me that guys couldn’t resist schoolgirl uniforms.”

“Short plaid skirt and a dress shirt with a lot of buttons undone?”

“Yep. And kneehigh socks.”

He laughed, the sound vibrating throughout his body. Then he grinned down at you. "That is quite the visual."

“What about you?”

“Oh the schoolgirl look definitely did things for me back then.”

You laughed. “No, I meant, did you ever do anything ridiculous to get the attention of someone else?”

“My muscles came in pretty early in life. Most girls like that, so a little flexing here or there usually does the trick. For those who it doesn’t work for, well, let’s just say it took me a while to actually figure out few of them were interested in my workout routine.”

He was so smooth all the time that it was hard to imagine him going through that young and awkward stage that everyone else did. The singer crooned loudly, causing you to miss the next thing Luke said.

He leaned into you a moment later. "He led you here by the band where it's louder, giving him an excuse to get closer."

You blinked, surprised to find that you were right by the band, the same place where you and Beau had been earlier. Luke was starting to lay out a pretty solid case. But you weren't about to admit that to him. "People move around on the dance floor. It happens."

"You're right. It does happen." Suddenly, he pulled you into a full hug, pressing his body against yours and wrapping both arms around your back. 

You stilled, but just for a second. Beau had hugged you. You'd hugged back, and then you sort of stayed in that close position, mostly just swaying the rest of the song and telling him about your day. He'd kept his hands on you the whole time, his body pressed close.

Beau's words came back to you.  _ I've taken certain liberties. _ Had he known Luke was watching? Was he trying to push Luke’s buttons? On purpose or for kicks? You weren't sure. You hugged Luke back, still not ready to give in.

"This sort of thing happen often to you on the dance floor too?" He pulled back, just a bit, and rubbed his hands over your back. It felt good.

"I mean, twice tonight, and it's still early."

He laughed again. This time, it vibrated through you both. 

Alright, you had been flirting. With both of them. But you dared a jury of your peers to find fault with your actions. 

"Maybe ease up on the flirting with other guys if you want your family to keep buying what we’re selling.

You guessed he had a point. Even if Tara and Johnny were at a distance for a while, you knew she’d be watching and waiting for you to slip up. Moreover, it would leave much to explain whereas telling your family a couple of months down the road that things just hadn’t worked out between you and Luke required little explanation. 

You were about to say as much when a shrill cry broke over the music. You both jerked your heads to the side to find Tara standing by Grandma’s cake, hands covering her face as she sobbed.

You sighed. “Here we go.”


	8. Chapter 8

The summer before seventh grade, when Tara was still your best friend, she developed an interest in Wicca and spent hours searching spells and charms that would help you both get exactly what you wanted out of life. What Tara wanted most was for her parents to stop fighting. Giving warts to Corey, the boy who’d broken her heart on the last day of school, was also high on her list.

Her cheeks were still round with baby fat, but her boobs were finally coming in. You still felt ill-proportioned, sure that you stuck out like a sore thumb. Where femininity seemed to come naturally to Tara, you mostly felt awkward and unsure of everything. In social situations, Tara easily took the lead, conversing with a skill you could only wish for.

One night in early August, just before school started, you spent the night with Tara. Just before midnight, you and Tara snuck out of her parents’ house--the new, huge one they’d only bought a couple of months before--and into the backyard. The yard backed up to a marsh covered with thin, reedy trees. Fireflies sparked here and there in the darkness. The golden moon hung huge and high in the sky. 

You’d carried out a fat green wax candle shaped like a tree, the kind that was meant for decoration and had already collected several Christmases worth of dust. The dreamweaver spell that Tara had found online had promised that any green candle would do.

After a few yards, Tara decided you'd gone far enough into the marsh. Kneeling, you plunked the candle down, squishing the bottom down into the muck. She lit it with a match she’d found in the kitchen before setting a crumpled piece of notebook paper with Latin scribbled across it beside the candle. 

The candle between you, you and Tara held hands, and began chanting Latin phrases neither of you really understood, having to squint to read them in the low lighting. Tara had assured you that the spell invoked spirits of charity that would make things better in your lives. All you had to do was focus on what you wanted most in life while saying the prescribed words.

The air was hot and sticky, hanging onto your skin like the lining of a winter coat. Cicadas buzzed wildly while tree frogs called back and forth to each other. The charm was only ten lines long but took forever to get right since you were both mostly guessing at pronunciations and occasionally had to battle a case of the giggles. 

You tried to focus on what you wanted most in life. You had a good family. You loved your brother even though he was a dork and too overprotective half the time. Your parents were good to you, and Grandma and Grandpa told the best stories and delighted in spoiling you. You were happy with your home life 

But you didn't have many friends, mostly just Tara. If you could just be more comfortable around other people and figure out how to make them like you and to not say so many dumb things all the time, that part of your life would probably be much better. You tried to focus on becoming cooler and making more friends. You didn't have a lot of faith that a spell would do much for you.

Just as you and Tara finished the last phrase, the candle blew out. The air was completely still, and the creatures had all gone quiet. 

You and Tara could barely see each other in the moonlight, but you had both opened your eyes in alarm. For a minute, you could only hear your soft breaths. 

A low breeze howled through the trees, the stink of the marsh rolling off it. You heard a low moan, like someone was in pain.

“What was that?” Your question was barely out before Tara jumped up and started running. 

You took off after her a moment later. You should have wished for better coordination because you only made it a few feet before your flip-flop was sucked in by the soft, sodden earth. You fell on your face and cried out as the reeds scraped against your skin. When you tried to get back up, you only slipped and slid around, your squelches seeming loud in the night.

Tara was too far ahead. If she heard you, she was too scared to turn back. Or maybe she didn’t care that you’d fallen.

For several minutes, you tried to gain purchase, pulling up half a dozen times only to fall back down. Eventually, you were able to shimmy and slide your way forward, making it from the wetter area to enough solid dirt to get some traction. You sank one hand into the mud and pulled at reeds just above the ground before lugging yourself up. Finally, you managed to crawl to your feet. You were hurt, both knees probably skinned, based on how much they were burning. And your pajamas were covered in mud and felt ripped in spots.

You trudged back to Tara's house, shivering despite the heat of the night. By the time you made it there, the porchlight over the back deck was on, and both her parents were standing outside. At first, you were glad to see them, the immediate safety associated with seeing a familiar adult after a scary and painful experience sending a wave of relief through you. But as you climbed up the stairs, you saw the dark expressions on their faces.

Her mother's arms were folded over her chest. "Just what do you think you're doing out there?" Backlit by the porchlight, she looked pretty scary.

You were surprised at the angry tone. 

Tara peeked out from behind them both, looking clean and sleepy. You waited a second for her to answer, since she usually took the lead. When she didn’t, you started fumbling for words.

"We…" you carried off. 

Your cousin looked at you with tears in her eyes and shook her head. 

"I mean...I don't know."

"You don't know?" Repeated her mom, obviously not believing you. 

“I just was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

You didn’t know what to tell them. When she had started looking up the spells, Tara had made you promise not to tell anyone, to never speak of it especially around her parents, who disapproved vehemently of witchcraft. You couldn’t tell them about the woods or why you had gotten scared. “I don’t know,” you said again.

"I bet your father can help you remember," her mother said with a sharp edge, like she was revelling in the opportunity to get you in trouble with Dad.

"Tara," her father said, "go back to bed. Your cousin is going home tonight."

"But Daddy--"

“You heard what your father said,” her mother cut her off.

Her father reached out and took her mother's hand.

Tara looked between the two, then back and you. Her eyes lingered on their joined hands. Then she turned and bounded away.

You couldn't believe she left you alone like that. Uncle Anthony and Aunt Leona had always scared you a little. Where your parents were warm and open, they’d always been cold and distant, quick to correct and criticize. You hated being in the room alone with them, and Tara knew that.

After calling your dad to come get you, they spent the whole time grilling you, forcing you to stay on the porch so you wouldn't track mud into the pristine house. They kept demanding to know why you'd snuck out, where you'd gone, what you'd been doing. You stopped trying to answer. When you refused to speak, Anthony threatened to spank you. You thought about running back to whatever was in the marsh.

Luckily, your father had shown up about that time. When he saw you, his face turned red. "Why is she covered in mud?"

"Ask her," your aunt said.

"I'm asking you both why my daughter who looks scraped up and scared half out of her wits is still standing outside in wet, dirty clothes."

“Obviously she doesn't want to be in this house. I'm certainly not going to let her ruin my floors because of her childish impulses. They were just polished."

Your father looked at you, his gaze angry. "Go on around the house and get in the car. I'll get your things." 

You swallowed, tears falling steadily by now as you wondered how much trouble you would be in. 

It took a good ten minutes for your dad to meet you in the car. He still looked pretty mad. After he tossed your bag in the back and got in, you whispered "I'm sorry."

Even though you were covered in stinky marsh muck, he reached across the seat and pulled you into a hug. "It's okay," he said after a minute. 

You cried and apologized again, and when he asked you why you’d snuck out in the first place, you hiccuped the story out.

He looked you up and down when you were done. “I reckon you learned your lesson about sneaking out.”

You nodded and promised that you had.

"From now on though, it might be best if Tara comes to our place instead."

You nodded again, not interested in setting foot in the same room with your aunt and uncle any time soon. But that was the last time you'd ever spent the night together. For a while after that, things did start to get better between her parents, and Tara seemed to grow happier by the day, even more so with the new friends she’d met at school that year. But after Christmas, her parents announced the divorce. And by then, you and Tara barely talked anymore, unless she was desperate.

\-------------

“Say the word,” Luke said, “and I’ll carry her below deck. Real quiet.”

Luke’s words snapped you out of your thoughts. You didn’t know why that particular memory decided to surface as you watched your cousin wailing and making a scene on the other side of the deck. It might have had something to do with the huge, golden moon in the sky. Or perhaps it was that Tara’s demands for attention hadn’t been so obvious until after that night.

Right then, you didn’t have time to think about the past though. Right then, you needed to act. You and Luke were just at the far edge of the dance floor, closer to the ship’s bow and diagonal from the stage. The dinner tables were situated toward the back of the ship, nearest the entrance leading to the galley, and the cake sat in the area in between. About half of Grandma’s guests were lounging at their tables, only a few appearing to have noticed your cousin’s screeches. 

You looked to Grandma, who was still dancing with Beau. She didn’t didn’t seem to be aware of the scene, but Beau was also checking out the commotion. He caught your eye, and then swept Grandma around so that she was facing the band directly.

“Well?” Luke asked, one arm still around your waist.

The offer was more than tempting. But you’d told Grandma that you were going to take care of things, and you’d already warned Tara earlier. Luke wouldn’t be with you after this weekend, so you didn’t want to start relying on him anymore than you already had. You needed to be the one to deal with the situation. “Not yet,” you told him.

The song was wrapping up and getting softer by the moment. If Tara continued her wailing, she'd steal the show during the break between songs, spoiling dinner. Once she had an audience, it would only be a matter of time before a group formed around her, showering her with the attention she thrived on. Grandma wouldn’t just be angry; she’d be  _ hurt _ . You weren’t about to let that happen.

You looked around in desperation for one of your family members. Mom and Dad were mingling at a table with several other couples their age, absorbed in their own world. Tony had found the only dark corner on the entire ship and was hooked into his phone. Anthony and Michelle, who would’ve only made things worse anyway, were busy obviously schmoozing with the mayor. And Al and Mal were locked in what appeared to be a serious conversation at their own table and couldn’t see you. You had no idea where Johnny was, nor did you care; he’d be no help at all.

How were you going to distract Grandma and her buddies long enough to intercept Tara? You pulled away from Luke, thinking. People danced around you, giving little notice to your cousin’s sobs. As the last notes of the Johnny Cash finished out, a couple who looked to be in their sixties executed a fancy ballroom spin and dip, the woman, who you thought was one of Grandma’s nieces, flicking her ankle out to the side. 

Dancing...well, that was certainly an idea. You looked up at Luke, a plan half-formed. "Go tell the band to play 'Call My Wife.'"

“What?”

“‘Call My Wife!’ Go!” You pushed at his chest to urge him, not that you moved him an inch. 

"By who?"

"They'll know." Mentally pulling up your big girl panties, you spun around and headed for Tara. You'd only made it halfway to the dining tables when a harmonica wailed several notes into the microphone. 

“Woohoo, it's Linsey, y'all!” Grandma cried out. 

You looked back to see her already swinging her hips and ankles. She and Beau twisted to their sides and back toward each other. Slow drums joined the harmonica, and the guitar and keyboard came in a moment later. Grandma and Beau matched the beat with the first steps of the shag. 

Beau caught your eye and gave you a wide grin. 

Before you could take two more steps, the middle aged and older folks swarmed the dance floor, unable to ignore the call of the beach music.

“ _ Somebody call my wife… _ ” the singer belted out, doing his best to recapture the husky timber of Linsey Alexander, the original artist. Though you weren’t a big dancer, you’d heard the song on several occasions over the last few years and been forced to shag a time or two yourself af various functions that allowed for dancing.

Before you could start for the cake table again, a white-haired, white-bearded man in a button down blue shirt and blue jeans grabbed your wrist and pulled you into step with him. You recognized him as John, an old neighbor of your grandparents from before they’d moved to the big house, who had often sat on the front porch with your grandpa in the evenings. He’d always been kind anytime you had seen him and made some of the best fig preserves you’d ever had. You weren't the best at shagging but didn't want to be impolite, so you danced a handful of steps, and then handed him off to Agatha, who’d finally made her way over.

A cane snaked out, nearly tripping you and causing you to stumble into a metal walker with tennis ball feet. You apologized to the older woman, who ignored you in favor of strutting her stuff. You zigged and zagged to dodge the rest of the dancers, making your way over to the cake area. Once you got to the dinner tables, your way was clear since almost everyone except the younger folks, of which there were few, had jumped up to dance. 

Finally, you arrived at the cake station. By this point, only a couple of catering staff were paying attention to Tara. She had crumpled into a ball, and was a weeping mess on the floor.

"What the fuck?" You asked through gnashed teeth.

"Grandmother ch-chose the same c-cake flavor that we planned for the wedding. And everything is r-ruined!"

You literally felt your eye twitch. This was not happening. You had not nearly been trampled by octogenarians trying to stop your cousin from making a scene over who had selected a cake flavor first. Beside the cake was a huge, gold-bladed knife that started singing a siren song of it's own to you. A massive brown hand smacked down on top of it before you could even reach for it. Your glare snapped up to Luke.

He picked up the knife and handed it off to one of the servers. "Maybe put that away until it's time to do the honors."

The waiter looked between you and Tara, gulped, then nodded before gingerly taking the knife and turning to go through one of the doors that led to the various areas of the ship.

"I wasn't," you said in a measured breath, "going to stab her."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing a word. So maybe you'd indulged a teeny, tiny fantasy, for just a split second.

"Ohmigod," Tara cried, "this is all your fault!" She stood up. "You hurt me and you hurt the baby,” she cradled her midsection, “and now Johnny isn't sure we should get m-muh-maarrrriied," she hiccup-sobbed the last word. She put her hand over her mouth, and the rock on her finger glinted in the light, nearly blinding you for a second. So apparently they’d argued but hadn’t officially called off anything. Unless...you had to wonder how an artist who’d just now managed to get a steady job could afford a stone so large. Something to ponder later.

It was probably a good thing Luke had sent the knife away. You really wanted to slap her again but were determined not to give into your base desires. “Tara,” you bit out in the mildest tone you could muster, “tonight is about Grandma. I don’t give a damn if she’s wearing the same dress you have picked out,”--actually, that was a pretty entertaining thought, Tara standing at the altar in a fluffy pink dress--”you need to calm down. Or we will find you somewhere to calm down." Somewhere quiet and dark and out of the way, like the ship's hold. Did they have holds on yachts? Probably not.

Tara looked at you and then at the busy dance floor. Then, she let out a piercing scream and shouted, "You're going to throw me and the baby overboard?"

“What? I didn't--”

“Get away from me!” She shouted your name and threw herself against the ship's railing.

“Are you insane, I…”

She gave you a coy look, a smirk turning up just the corner of her mouth.

That bitch. You realized exactly what she was doing a split second too late.

Luke touched your arm gently and murmured your name, trying to get your attention. You looked around, and sure enough, more and more heads, particularly those of the middle aged folks and those closer to your age were swiveling in your direction. 

Pleased to finally have an audience, Tara continued the charade. "You've been trying to steal Johnny ever since you found out we were together. I saw you sneak off with him at the aquarium today, leaving poor Luke and me to mind Grandmother."

Mind Grandmother? “If she heard you talking about her like that…”

“And on her birthday, no less, and right when Johnny and I were about to announce that we’re having--”

“A wedding,” you cut her off, stopping her from dropping the baby bomb. “We all know you’re about to get married. You announced it online days ago. This is not your engagement party.”

“But it should be! We deserved this.  _ I _ deserve this.”

You’d love to tell her exactly what she deserved. “Tara, if you don’t come down from there and stop--”

“Are you about to threaten me again? In front of all these people?”

Three or four people who you didn’t recognize, younger folks, had started in your direction. A couple were bigger, likely well-meaning guys, seeking to protect the helpless Tara. She was good at attracting heroes. 

You took a moment to consider how the situation looked to outsiders. Tara claimed that you threatened her and were about to attack her. She was still holding her stomach, trying to make her pregnancy as obvious as possible. Luke, looking as huge and domineering as ever, was standing by, ready to physically remove Tara from the deck if necessary. The muscles and stature probably made him look like a henchman prepared to carry out your orders, if anyone was buying Tara’s act.

You glanced at Luke and then took an intentional step back, trying to decide how to turn the tables on Tara. How likely was it that you could paint her as a crazy woman threatening to throw herself overboard?

Suddenly, the music stopped, and someone tapped a percussive beat on the microphone, causing feedback to echo across the deck. Everyone turned to the stage.

"Excuse me, everyone.” It was Al, who'd taken the singer's mic and was standing on stage, Mal’s arm around her waist. “Could I have your attention, please?"

You glanced at Tara, who looked astonished that anyone would dare interrupt one of her dramatic scenes.

"Grandma, I am so sorry to interrupt one of your favorite songs, but Mal and I just can't wait any longer to give you your gift."

Half the crowd awwed.

"Well lay it on me," Grandma shouted back, voice barely audible. The crowd laughed.

"This year, we got you exactly what you asked for," Mal said into the mic. Then he looked at Al, rubbed his hand over her middle, and together, they said, "We're having a baby!"

“Hallelujah and Amen!” Grandma called. A chorus of cheers followed as well as loud applause. 

“Sounds like we need a little celebration music,” said the band leader. Another laid back, beach tune started up, and most of the couples went back to dancing.

“No, no,” Tara said, seemingly to herself.

Luke walked over and started speaking softly to the handful of people around you. “Nothing to see here, guys. Our cousin’s just upset and emotional. She’s a bit,” he gestured to his head, “touched.”

“But, Johnny and I are pregnant too. We're planning a wedding, and we’re going to have the best marriage.” She continued to ramble for a few seconds, unwittingly playing into Luke’s mitigation attempt.

The folks who had gathered around widened their eyes and slowly nodded.

You watched as Luke continued to usher them away and then cut your cousin off by telling her the worst thing possible. "Shut up, Tara. No one's listening."

She blinked as more tears gathered in her eyes and looked around, realizing she still wasn’t getting the attention she was so desperate for. Her eyes landed on you, and she glared. Suddenly, she leapt at you, fingers clawing at your shoulders.

You didn’t even have a chance to push her away before she was off you. Luke hauled Tara backward by the back of her dress.

"Not gonna happen."

"But she slapped me!"

"My suggestion? Next time, duck."

As soon as he released her, Tara screamed and huffed, stamping her foot in the manner of all three year olds determined to get their way. She staggered back and looked between you both and then at Grandma’s big, beautiful cake. You saw in her eyes the moment she decided to ruin it, and just as you were about to reach for her, a tall woman with dirty blonde hair cascading around her shoulders stepped between Tara and the cake.

“That’s enough,” she said, voice cool and even.

Tara's mother Leona had always sort of reminded you of Angelica Houston, not the jubilant, family-loving mother from the  _ Addams Family _ movies but the soulless, opportunistic monster from  _ Ever After _ . Though she showed up at all the major family gatherings, you hadn’t had much interaction with her since the night you and Tara had attempted the dreamweaver spell.

Tears streamed down Tara’s face. Apparently she’d foregone the waterproof liner and mascara. She was starting to look like a cheap cosplay of The Crow gone very, very wrong. “B-but…”

Leona swiped her hand to the side in a quelling motion. “Hush. It appears you need to freshen up, dear.”

Tara blinked, and a moment later, she turned and went for the stairs.

Leona’s eyes lingered on Luke and then cut over to you. “Well played,” she said, and then walked away in the direction her daughter had gone.

Chills ran down your spine. That wasn’t disturbing at all.

Luke gave you a lopsided smile. “You’re getting pretty good at dealing with her. Won't be long before you don’t need me at all.”

You returned his smile, albeit weakly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Still, he had a point. The cruise was almost halfway over, and so far, you’d managed to handle what Tara had to throw at you. Probably best not to get too cocky though. You still had to make it all the way through dinner and dessert.

Dinner, as it turned out, was just being served now that the excitement had settled down. During the last dances, salads had been cleared. Now, dinner plates laden with seafood and pasta with a rich sauce were being set out.

You and Luke returned to your table just in time to hear Grandma accepting the last of the congratulations on Al and Mal’s good news. “Been after those two for three years to spit out a great-grandbaby for me to spoil before I kick the bucket. It’s about time.”

“Hear, hear,” her various friends called, lifting their glasses in toast.

“As for you two,” Grandma speared you and Luke with a look, “time is a-ticking.”

“One thing at a time, Grandma,” you told her, refraining from reminding her that she had Tara’s kid on the way too. 

This put the focus of conversation on you and Luke for a few minutes, and you answered the usual barrage of how long you’d been together, how had you met, et cetera.

“You kids shacking up? Isn’t that how they do it nowadays?” Agatha asked.

“Mama,” said her daughter, whose name you’d learned was Diane, “no one says ‘shacking up’ anymore, but yes, that’s how the younger crowd usually does it.”

“You mean like that girl of yours Kelsey and her gal Maddie?”

“Mama,” Diana said, obviously scandalized.

“What? You think you all invented lesbians and gays? Why, I had a little lesbian fling myself back before I met your father. Her name was Betty Jean. Talk about a good kisser.”

“I remember Betty Jean,” Grandma said. “Didn’t she move out to one of those artist colonies after y’all split?”

“She did. I have one of her paintings hanging in the bedroom. Now that Paul’s gone--may he rest--I like to look at that painting and think about the lovely things Betty Jean would do with her--”

“Mama!”

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Boy, for your children to be screaming their sexuality from the rooftops, you sure are a prude.”

“It’s the dinner table, and we are in mixed company,” she said the last part through her teeth while glancing at Luke.

“Don’t censor yourselves on my behalf,” he said to the table at large.

“So are you two kids shacked up or not?” Grandma’s cousin Leonard asked.

“Not,” you said.

“Well why the heck not?”

“We’re taking it slow.”

Your elders groaned in displeasure.

“The saying’s true,” Grandma said, “love is wasted on the young.”

The table collectively agreed.

You twirled pasta around your fork, starting to remember your reticence toward coming to Charleston for the weekend. 

“But you’re at least having fun in the sack?” Agatha asked. “This one looks like he knows his way around a woman’s body.”

“ _ Mama _ ,” Diane cried.

You sighed. 

Luke laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

Some time later, candles were lit, the birthday song was sung, and presents were opened. Caterers had served fat pieces of cake--butterscotch and bourbon pecan praline, the coveted flavor, apparently--and you were halfway through your second piece when Anthony approached the table. Never missing an opportunity to impress, he greeted the various partygoers seated with you by name. Then he said to Grandma, “I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself, Mother.”

“Indeed, I have,  _ Son _ .” 

He gave a short smile and then slid his eyes to you. “Might I have a word?” 

Ah, it seemed that Tara had run to her daddy and “told on” you.

You took a moment to consider it. You didn’t have to go with him. No one was going to make you. But he’d made sure to ask you in front of a large group of people, specifically in front of Grandma, who was trying to enjoy the end of her party. You knew Anthony was just as vindictive as Tara. Normally, he’d do anything to avoid a scene, but you wouldn’t put it past him to push the issue if you put him off. Might as well get it over with anyway. Sugar and successfully putting Tara in her place twice in one day had you riding high and feeling pretty invincible. “Sure,” you said.

Luke caught your eye and lifted his brows, asking if you wanted his company without saying a word.

You squeezed his shoulder gently. “I think Agatha has you on her dance card. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He nodded, and you stood to follow your uncle.

The band had returned to the stage, and many of the guests were enjoying the last dances of the evening. Anthony led you away from the main crowd to the corner by the cake station. He turned to you, carefully controlled anger lighting over his features. “I guess you’ve had your fun torturing my daughter today.”

Was he kidding? Tara had been torturing you for years. You crossed your arms over your chest. “Actually, my day was great except for the parts involving her.”

“Choosing today of all days to try to enact your little revenge plot shows just how immature and impulsive you are.”

Were you living in some farce? Was he really calling you immature and impulsive on the same day that his adult daughter threw multiple temper tantrums? Before you could form a reply, he pressed on.

“You owe my daughter and my entire family an apology for ruining our day.”

It took every ounce of your self-control not to scream. “Look, Uncle Anthony, I’m sorry things went down the way they did today, but I’m not a bit sorry for putting Tara in her place on a day that's supposed to be dedicated to Grandma. Maybe you’re the one who should apologize to the whole family for not being a better parent and teaching your daughter important things, like morals.” You started to walk away, but he grabbed your upper arm.

“Oh, you are one to talk about ethics.”

You shook his hand off and glared up at him. What was he on about now?

“You’ve been lying to us all the whole time you’ve been in town.” When you narrowed your eyes, trying to figure out what he meant, he stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Luke Hobbs isn’t a personal trainer, and we both know it.”

You jerked your head back in surprise. How had he found out? Had he done a background check on Luke?

“How do you think your parents or Mother will feel when they learn that you brought home an imposter?”

Oh shit, he did know. And now he was going to tell your whole family just because you’d told Tara off? You tried to picture how your family would respond. Al and Mal would think it was weird but laugh it off eventually. Your parents would be surprised, probably a little hurt that you’d felt the need to lie. Normally, Grandma would be entertained to learn you’d hired an escort; after all, she had enjoyed her fair share of antics in her time, as she liked to remind you. But Grandma  _ liked  _ Luke. She’d never got on with one of your boyfriends like she did with him. And you would rather die than have her birthday party go down in flames because of a presumed scandal.

Then you pictured Tara’s delighted face when the truth was revealed about Luke. She wouldn't miss a chance to rub it in your face at every single family gathering to come. You'd be in the same position as in high school, trying to please her so she wouldn't bring it up. And every guy you brought home in the future would be the subject of speculation. And Johnny would just sit there with the smug look on his face, getting off on the fact that you’d had to pay someone to help you pretend to be over him, whether it was true or not.

Anthony smiled, thin and mean. “You’ll apologize to Tara tomorrow at brunch. If not, I’ll tell everyone.”

Seriously, he had to blackmail people just to make his daughter feel better about herself? You chewed on your lip. You did not want to apologize to Tara. She’d sown every moment of misery she’d reaped and then some. You knew Luke really wouldn’t care either way if you revealed who he was; he was a roll with the punches guy and seemed capable of making the best out of any situation. But it pissed you off to no end that Anthony cared more about making his daughter’s life seem perfect than making sure his mother enjoyed a weekend dedicated to her.

“So, do we have an understanding?”

Why was it assholes always said stuff like that? Before you could give your answer, you were interrupted.

“Anthony,” Beau sidled up to your uncle, seeming not to even notice you, “just the man I’ve been looking for. I’ve been wanting to ask your opinion on a couple of stocks my guy has been pushing.” 

“This isn’t a good time, Beauregard,” Anthony said, laying the Charleston drawl on a bit thicker. He’d never seemed to like Beau, who’d been born into all the high society privileges that your uncle had been trying to achieve for decades. 

“Oh, come on, you know us businessmen can’t go a whole event without talking a little shop.” He pulled out his phone, presumably to look up said stocks, and then he looked up and seemed to notice you. “Oh, hey there, darlin’. I’m not interrupting, am I?” He flashed his teeth.

“Actually--”

You cut Anthony off. “No, I think we’re good.”

“I bet you’ve got a little partying you still want to do anyway, right, doll?” Normally, the obvious  _ Why don't you let the men talk, sweetheart? _ dismissal would rub you all kinds of wrong, but Beau tilted his head just so and winked. You knew he wasn't really into the good ol' boys gang. He'd told you on several occasions that he couldn't stand Anthony, who'd been pestering him for years to sell a portion of his pier warehouses. Beau wouldn't willingly put himself alone with Anthony for any length of time, which meant he must've seen that the conversation had taken a bad turn and was giving you an out.

Sometimes, you didn’t mind being rescued. “I’ll leave you boys to it then.”

Anthony called your name. “We aren’t done with our discussion.”

And you weren’t going to finish it either, at least not right then and hopefully not until you had a plan. You moved away swiftly, pulling out your phone from the pocket in your dress as you headed back across the deck. You texted Delphie  _ S.O.S. _ and prayed she was free. 

When you didn't get an immediate response, you dropped your phone back in your pocket and looked up to see Grandma waving you over. For the first time that night, she wasn't surrounded by a handful of people. Several of those who’d sat with her all night were either socializing with other tables or enjoying one of the final dances before the ship pulled back into port. Luke was one of the latter as you found him by the band dancing with Agatha. You couldn't help but smile; regardless of his profession, he really did seem like a good guy. 

As you made your way to the table, Grandma patted the seat beside her. The only other person still sitting with her was Leonard, who was snoozing quietly.

"This here's turned out to be a real hootenanny," Grandma said after you sat.

Your heart was beating loud in your ears, nerves still jittery from the drama of the night. You smiled. "I'm glad you’re having a good time."

"What did my boy want?"

You sighed, thinking about lying just for a second. But Grandma would know. "For me to apologize to Tara for earlier.” You decided not to mention the cake debacle, letting her think he only expected an apology for the slap at the aquarium.

Grandma huffed. “I swear if he don't stop coddling her. You're the one who deserves the apology.” 

You smiled, thankful to have Grandma's support. You shrugged. “It doesn't matter. We're not letting them take away from your night.”

“Your night too, honey.” You looked at her in question. “Well look at ya. So damn happy you're almost glowing. You know how many people have come up tonight telling me they ain't seen you looking as good in years?”

You were surprised to learn you'd been the subject of any conversations. You tended to fly under the radar, especially since the cancelled wedding. 

“And it's not just that handsome hunk you brought with you.” She patted your knee. “You're coming into your own.” 

You thought about that for a second. When you first went to LA, you'd sort of been running away, having lucked up with a job as far from home as possible while still staying in the country. Lala Land, with it's bustle and gridlocked highways and carefree Cali attitude offered a sharp contrast to the slow as molasses pomp and circumstance of Charleston. But you found a new home, some good friends, and a career you enjoyed. You were happy with how things were going, and it was nice to know your family supported that. “Thanks, Grandma.” Somehow, she'd managed to make you feel ten feet tall in the span of a couple of minutes. Grandmas were like that.

You were both quiet for a minute, and the dance started wrapping up. Luke threw his head back and laughed at something Agatha said, his teeth flashing in one of his broad smiles. 

“You know the best thing about that one, he’s not a bit like that little pissant Tara stole from you.”

Your mind went back to Grandma’s first impression of Johnny years and years ago. “You mean you don’t think he’s trouble?”

“Oh, he’s got trouble written all over him.”

Watching him patiently lead Agatha back to the table, you sat back. You thought about his never-ending charm, his macho pigheadedness, his readiness to back you up, your growing attraction, and the fact that he was most likely attached. “Definitely trouble.”

“Well there's two kinds of trouble, girlie,” Grandma grinned when you glanced over at her, “and Luke Hobbs is the good kind."

Seeming to know he was the topic of conversation, Luke caught your eye and cocked his head slightly to the side, like he was trying to figure out your thoughts. You reminded yourself for the umpteenth time that he was an escort and that you weren’t interested in having a fling. His muscles flexed, causing his suit jacket to tighten in all the right places as he helped Agatha sit and situate herself. Okay, so maybe your libido was a little interested in a fling. But the rest of you overruled her ten to one.

“Got one more dance in you?” he asked you, once Agatha was settled.

A dance wouldn’t hurt, right? You deserved to let loose and have a little fun. 

Grandma was grinning when you turned to make sure she was okay with you leaving. “Me and Aggy will be just fine.” 

As you and Luke returned to the dance floor, the final song, something a cross between reggaeton and blues, upbeat and horn-heavy, started up. 

Dancing with Luke was fun. He knew what he was doing even though you were two parts awkward and one part uncoordinated. The slow dances hadn’t been a problem; you could just move with the music and follow your partner. But faster dances were a bit more of a challenge. You did your best to keep up, and he didn’t make you feel completely inept. 

You discovered that he liked touching, a lot. His hands had roamed all over when you’d danced earlier, but you’d thought it was mostly to prove his point. Now, he skimmed his palms up and down your sides, which you hadn’t previously realized were so sensitive. He slid one hand down your hip and leaned closer. You wrapped one arm around his shoulder and put your other hand on his waist.  _ Just for the sake of keeping up appearances _ , you assured yourself.

You hadn’t done much dancing in the last few years. Delphie had dragged you out to a couple of clubs. On those occasions, you normally avoided the dancefloor as much as possible. The few times you did dance, most of the guys were so focused on making fumbling attempts at small talk, and you were so focused on not stepping all over their feet that you'd never really figured out what all the fuss was. Why attempt to coordinate your body movements with a stranger when you could just have a drink and talk, sans all the physical exertion?

With Luke, dancing was a much more serious affair. He kept eye contact and didn’t say much outside of singing along every few lines. The eye contact was almost too intense. In the low light, his eyes were nearly black. He stayed focused completely on you and your body.

He rubbed a circle over your hip and across your thigh, and desire rippled through you. Despite the warmth of the night and of his skin, you shivered and stepped further into his space. At some point, your feet forgot to move, but the closeness of his body made it seem yours was still in motion.

He tilted his head down to bring his face a few inches from yours. You hadn't been aware of leaning up, but here you were, eye to eye and sharing the same breath.

With the music being as loud as it was, you didn't so much hear as feel when he said your name. His eyes searched your face. You tried hard to stop yourself from swallowing, but no dice. 

You really wanted to kiss him.

You thought back to earlier in the day, at the aquarium, how you'd put on a show for Tara and Johnny. On the deck, there were plenty of people to put on a show for, but you found that you didn't much care about what anyone else thought right then. You closed the last two inches between the two of you.

His lips were somehow hotter than this afternoon. His hands moved in time with his mouth, blunt fingertips skimming up and down your back. Finally, one palm settled at the top of your ass while his other huge hand wrapped around the back of your neck. 

You moaned, opening your mouth enough to suck on his lips. He drew in a sharp breath, and then his tongue was in your mouth, and he pulled you even closer against him. You sucked on his tongue and slid yours back and forth along his. 

Distantly, you heard a trumpet blare. You didn't pay it too much attention until the horn played a quick, loud run of notes. And then you remembered you were on a boat with the majority of your extended family, making out with your escort. You pulled back, pressing your lips together.

He looked down at you, brow furrowed. 

"Sorry. I guess I got caught up in the moment,” you rambled, “and uhh, I forgot about, you know, and things felt right, and uhh…" you trailed off.

"When you kiss a man like that, no apology's needed. "

You smiled and leaned back a bit further. At the same moment, you both seemed to realize that his hand was still on your ass. He edged it up just a bit higher to the small of your back then traced the other down your spine. His hips still moved to the music like they'd never stopped.

You were reeling from your body's response. One kiss had you wondering whether or not the ship had a private cabin that you and Luke could escape to for a while. That probably wasn't good. You had lost yourself, just for a moment. Luke made it easy to forget. He made a lot of things too easy, but he would only be around a few more hours. When all was said and done, you’d be alone, and you’d have to deal with your family. You would have to deal with Anthony and his threat. You stilled.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You tried to resume your movements.

“You're overthinking again.” He was getting good at recognizing it. 

“Yeah, sorry, I just--”

“You already apologized.” Tension crept over his face

Was he mad? The thought made you fumble your words even more. “I know, it's just that you're so good at acting, and I’m not so much I guess. I keep forgetting.” 

“Acting?” he repeated, confused.

“I should go check on Grandma.” 

He glanced over your shoulder. “She's fine. Why are you freaking out?”

“I'm not freaking out.” Okay, so you might've been mildly flustered. It wasn't the same. “Look, I'm sorry--”

“Woman, if you don't stop apologizing--”

“Woman?!”

He cursed. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?” You heard the sharp edge to your own tone, the rising volume. The music was still just loud enough to cover you, but you were one step away from causing a scene of your own. You pulled back, and he loosened his grip, just a little.

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while keeping the other at your back, “We're two adults out having a good time. You loosened up for one minute, and now you're in your head again when you don't have anything to worry about.”

You stepped back, annoyed with his presumption. He barely knew you. “How would you know what I do or don't need to worry about?” 

As the last notes of the song played, he sighed and took a step back, hand falling away. “Look. Obviously this isn’t the right time. Let’s work it out at the hotel.”

There he went, telling you what you could and couldn't do again. You couldn’t help but think about how Anthony had just tried to push you around, and now here Luke was, pulling the alpha male card yet again. “There’s nothing to work out.” You turned to walk away, half expecting him to grab you, but he let you go.

You felt tears pricking at the backs of your eyes and got even madder at yourself. Hiring an escort had been a terrible idea, one that was on the verge of blowing up in your face. First by the fact that your uncle was one step away from revealing the truth to your whole family. And secondary to that was an attraction that seemed to be growing by the hour for a guy who was just playing a role. 

When your phone buzzed, you were glad. You were eager to tell Delphie exactly what her bright idea was about to cost you. After pulling it from your pocket, you swiped quickly through the screens to get to your messages.

_ I don’t like the company you’ve been keeping. If you want to play games, let’s have some fun. _

It was the unfamiliar number again. In the chaos of the day, you’d pretty much forgotten about the two texts from earlier. Seriously, what the fuck? 

You texted back,  _ Who is this? _

“Damn, girl, you and Luke know how to get down.” 

You looked up to see Al and quickly shut off your screen. 

When you looked up, you saw concern cloud her features. “What’s wrong, doll?”

You shook your head, “Nothing.” There was no reason to bother her with potentially more drama that may amount to just that: nothing. You were sure the mystery texter was probably some bored teenager anyway. 

She gave you a look that said she didn’t believe you and waited.

“Luke pissed me off. It’ll be fine.” You’d probably pissed him off too. You weren’t looking forward to spending the night with him or the flight back to LA, but you’d get through it.

“Looks like he pissed off Mal, too.” She tipped her head to the side to indicate the two men, who seemed to be in a heated discussion. You wondered what it was about but were too annoyed with Luke to intervene right then. Probably more macho crap anyway.

You shook your head. “Hey, thanks, by the way, for the save with Tara earlier.”

She smirked. “You know what they say, timing is everything.”

As you gave her comment a half smile, your phone buzzed again with another message.

_ You’ll find out soon enough.  _


	10. Chapter 10

“That sumbitch said what?” Delphie asked. She had her phone propped up and was putting her going out makeup on in her bathroom. She'd nearly poked her eye out with an eyeshadow brush when you told her about Anthony's threat.

You were leaning against the counter in the ladies' head. You'd meticulously checked all the stalls to be sure they were empty. The boat had docked a few minutes before, and people were disembarking already, but when your phone had rung with a video call, you'd ducked belowdeck to talk to Delphie. “He threatened to expose me and Luke.”

“Oh, I heard you. I just can't wrap my head around his idiocy. Has he considered the physical damage Big and Tall could do to him?”

You actually hadn't considered that. Luke probably packed a punch. “I don't know if that would help the situation. Anthony is pretty litigious. I half expect to get served before we get on the plane tomorrow.” 

“For what?”

You shrugged. “He'll find something. He's convinced that Tara's the victim in this.”

“More like the instigator. I swear. Let me find that snake in the grass in a dark alley sometime.”

You laughed. “I don't think Tara's ever had to set foot in an alleyway that wasn't on some historic tour.”

“No doubt.” She finished shading her eyes in sunset tones and started fiddling with fake lashes that looked at least an inch long. She'd just gotten her nails done. They were almost twice the size of the lashes with swirls of yellow and green. Her dexterity in spite of the nails was impressive. You'd have lost an eye immediately. “What did Luke say when you told him?”

“Uhh, I didn't.” 

She put her hand on her sizable hip, shifted her body into it, and cocked her head to the side, her high ponytail bouncing in time with her words, “Why in the Hell not?”

You shrugged. “It's my problem, not his.”

“I thought you were treating this thing like a partnership.” 

“I am.” Sort of. 

“Don't sound like it. You got him right there, and you're in the bathroom, asking me for advice from thousands of miles away.”

You sighed. She was right. Delphie was your best friend for a reason. “It's just, things are sort of tense between us right now.”

She looked at you, one eye lashed up and the other still naked. It made her eyes appear to be two different sizes. You had the opportunity for an upclose when she leaned into the phone camera and narrowed her uneven eyes at you. “Oh my God! You got some action, and you've been holding out on me!”

“Well, not _action_ action.”

She groaned. “Let me be the judge of that.”

You told her about your dance and kiss with Luke.

She bit her plump bottom lip. “Some of us out here trying to get one decent score, and you got a sure thing right in front of you.”

“He's just doing his job, Delph.”

She huffed and picked up the phone. She still only had the one set of eyelashes on, so it was difficult to concentrate on her eyes, though she was obviously trying to get you to look into them. “Did he have his hand on your ass?”

“What does that matter?”

 _“Did_ he have his _hand_ on your _ass_?”

You didn't have to think long about it. He definitely had. She must've seen the answer on your face.

“Girl, that man is into you. And if you think for a second you ain't into him then you're lying to yourself.”

She had you there. You'd really been trying to ignore the growing attraction, but you were quickly becoming as enamored with Luke Hobbs as every other woman who seemed to encounter him. Nevertheless, you had good reasons for trying to tamp down your desire, and it wasn't just that he was being paid to fake your relationship. “He's got someone back home,” you reminded her. “I heard them talking last night.”

“Is he wearing a ring?”

“No. Why?”

“If he ain't wearing a ring, then you ain't no homewrecker.” 

You laughed, pretty sure Grandma had said something along the same lines.

“Besides, if you'd actually pull up your big girl panties and talk to him, you'd know for sure. And you could find out whether or not he feels a little something too.”

Her logic was sound, responsible even. Like she expected you to _adult_. “Well, talking to him might pose a problem. I sort of picked a fight just now.”

She sighed heartily, looking Heavenward even though she was trying to glue on her other set of eyelashes. “What’d you go and do that for?”

“I don't know.” You did know. “We kissed, and it all just felt too real even though it's an act. And I started thinking about dealing with Anthony and lying to my family, and how I've been relying too heavily on Luke this whole weekend, and he won't even be around in a day.” You sighed, getting upset again as the emotions returned.

“So basically you got in your head like usual?”

You huffed. Luke had said the same thing, but it wasn't any easier to hear from Delphie, even if they were right. “Yeah, I suck.”

Delphie had set her phone down a few minutes before and had managed to finish applying the other lashes, so she looked mostly normal again, if a bit squinty in both eyes. “You don't suck. Your brain is great for your job and comes in plenty handy.” She fiddled with some of her cosmetics and then started lining one of her eyes. “But you could stand to loosen up, go with the flow a little more.”

It was a comment you had heard before, one that had been hurtful in the past. Several exes had mentioned it. But you knew it was coming from a good place with Delphie. Considering she was the one who helped you formulate this zany plan to begin with, she was giving pretty sound advice. 

“I bet Muscles has some ideas that'll really help you let loose.” She swiped on some mascara, making the lashes seem to poke from her eyeballs like crazy spiders. “What you ought to do is go jump his bones. Bet he'll find a place for you to be alone real quick then.”

Well, she had been giving some sound advice. You sighed. “I guess I need to apologize and talk to him.” Really talk, not babble.

“I mean you could let your body do the talking.”

You laughed and asked her about her plans for the night.

“I got me a hot piece of Latino ass tonight. Marco from the corner cafe, the one who always gives me extra foam. I hope he's planning to put out.”

You laughed at her enthusiasm. “I hope that works out for you.”

“You and me both. Keep me posted on how things go with your man.” 

You promised to do so before saying your goodbyes. You took a deep breath, faced the mirror, and then went about straightening your hair and dress. You were an adult. You could do this.

Taking one last breath for courage, you opened the door and stepped back out onto the lower deck to find Luke and Mal waiting outside the door. They stood so that they were slightly turned toward each other, arms crossed over their chests. Well, this looked tense. It was only a little disturbing to find them brooding outside the restroom. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”

They glared at each other. Well actually, Mal glared. Luke stared back evenly. So apparently Al's assessment that Luke had somehow pissed your brother off was accurate. After another beat, you asked, “Where's Al?

Mal finally looked down at you. “She went ahead to the truck. Said she wasn't feeling great.”

Damn. Your thoughts had been so occupied by the events of the night that you hadn't really paid much attention to your sister. Had she been sick the whole time? Was it because of the baby or just seasickness? “I'm sorry. I should've been paying more attention.” 

“It's not your fault, doll. You were distracted.” He cut his eyes to Luke again.

Seriously? “Alright, what is the problem between you two?” 

Their gazes remained locked for another moment.

"We'll talk about it at the hotel," Mal said.

God, what had you done to be cursed with so many alpha males? “You are going to stop acting like dogs fighting over who gets to piss on a tree and tell me now.”

Luke raised an eyebrow and kept his eyes on Mal. “I’m not the one with the problem.”

You sighed and turned to your brother. “Malachai, if you don’t--”

An obnoxious ring blared, cutting you off, and Mal reached for his cellphone, glancing at the caller. “I gotta get this.” He abruptly turned and walked toward the railing. 

You blew out a breath of air and happened to notice a ship attendant casually checking his watch. Right. It looked like you three were the only passengers still on the ship. “Come on,” you said to Luke, “he can catch up.” Besides, this would give you a moment to apologize and settle things between the two of you before you had to deal with whatever bug your brother had up his ass.

You started down the gangplank, Luke close behind you.

The air on the dock was a bit cooler. The setting was nice. Patriots Point was a fairly small port in the scope of things, and the county hadn’t gone to the trouble of installing many lights on the water. There were only a few tall posts with heavy glass globes hanging down from them. These were spaced across the various docking planks, making the floor of the pier hard to see.

Just as you stepped on the dock, you heard a loud ping, followed by the sound of glass shattering. Looking up, you realized one of the light bulbs had burst. That was weird. You looked at it, puzzled, trying to figure out what could have caused it. Then, the light at the other end of the dock exploded, the pings and shattering sounds catching up with your ears a split second after the fact. "What the--?"

"Get down!" 

Half a second later, you were knocked down so forcefully that your head rattled as you hit the dock. Terror ripped down your spine. A heavy weight against your back pinned you down.

"Don't move." It was Luke. 

Relief and outrage surfaced through the fog in your addled mind. "What are you doing?" One by one, more lights burst apart, leaving the dock dark . Were the lights being shot out? Wait. Were _you_ being shot _at_? You flattened yourself down further.

"There's nothing out here for cover."

Your eyes scanned the dock. He was right. It was mostly empty except for a stack of plastic crates that held some kind of dishes. Probably from the caterers. You craned your neck toward him, seeing that he was looking the same way and had already come to the same conclusion. Your eyes met in silent agreement. 

"Okay. Can you shimmy with me crawling over you?"

You nodded even though it sounded impossible.

"Go as fast as you can." He lifted up, allowing a few inches between you and the dock, and you started to move. 

Army crawling with someone hovering just on top of you was not a particular skill you'd managed to pick up as yet in your lifetime. It begged several questions, like, why wasn’t this one of those essential survival skills that schools should be required to teach? Were there benefits to adding a few more squats and crunches to your fitness routine, which was mostly nonexistent? And had you really needed that second piece of cake? Were you not in danger, you might have laughed at the ridiculous thoughts coming to mind.

The crawl felt stretched over long minutes but probably only took several dozen seconds. You let Luke help you sit up in position behind the crates, hoping he'd figured out the direction the bullets were coming from. You had no clue where the gunman could be.

Everything was eerily quiet for a minute. Then you heard Mal yelling, "Find him now, and someone get eyes on my wife." You assumed the “him” was the shooter but had no idea who he was talking to. His voice was coming from the direction of the boat, where you guessed he had been able to take cover when the shooting began. In the heat of the moment, you had completely forgotten he was there.

"We can't stay here long," Luke said.

As if to punctuate the point, a second later, glass rained down on you as the champagne flutes in the top crate burst into shards. 

"In the water and under the dock. Stay close to me."

You nodded, unable to hold back the tremor of fear.

"On three. One," he wrapped an arm around you, keeping himself pressed against your back. “Two,” you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. "Three," he rolled you both off the edge of the dock. You plunged into the water. It wasn't particularly cool, having been warmed from the July sun and humidity, but the sudden submersion still shocked your system. Luke held onto you, and you felt him propel you both underneath the dock. 

Seconds later, your head broke the surface, and you sucked in a deep breath, blinking water from your eyes.

Luke turned you to face him. The light was so low that you could just make out the shape of his head and shoulders towering out of the water. You couldn't quite reach the bottom, but it seemed he could. "Are you okay?"

"I…" you trailed off. A shadow blurred, and a dark figure emerged from the water behind him. "Luke!"

Luke jerked to the side, but not fast enough. He groaned, flinching in on himself like he'd been hit hard. He didn't stop though, whipping around to grab whoever was in the water with you. 

But the attacker moved quickly, staying behind Luke. You watched in horror as he launched himself at Luke's back, the wide, long blade of a knife glinting in what little light there was. You tried to launch yourself forward, to do something to help, but the attacker plunged the knife in Luke's upper back before you could get close. Luke screamed.

The attacker lost no time, coming for you next. You twisted and lurched away, but he was too quick, grabbing your ankle and pulling you down beneath the surface. You attempted to suck in a breath on the way down but ended up with a mouth full of water. You choked and tried to cough it out, having to slam down your instincts to inhale. 

The attacker pulled you into his arms. And you started to kick, punch, and pinch anything you could get your hands on. You realized that wasn't much. All your hits were slowed by the water, which dampened their impact. And you weren't actually grabbing anything because the guy was wearing what felt like a scuba suit, so your hands kept slipping. 

Your lungs burned, lightheadedness leaving you weak. It felt like you were being ripped from your own body. 

The attacker started moving with you in the water. You kept trying to land a hit, knowing you weren’t likely to survive for long if he took you.

After a minute, detachment began to set in. You needed to breathe. You could feel your blows growing weaker and weaker. Even though you couldn't see anything in the water, you felt darkness settling over your mind. You weren't going to make it.

Fear seized your chest as a handful of grizzly fates crossed your mind. Why had you watched all those true crime documentaries with Delphie? You tried to think of anything you could do to get away, but kept coming up short.

Suddenly, your progress through the water stopped as though the guy had run into an invisible wall. The moment his grip loosened for just a second, you summoned all the strength you had left and kicked and elbowed and punched, simultaneously trying to figure out where the surface was. As it turned out, you weren't that far from it. You felt your arms break free from the water's hold and lurched in the same direction. 

As soon as your mouth broke the surface, you coughed and sputtered, then took in as much air as you could. It was a good thing you did because a moment later, you were dragged down again by the attacker. This time, you aimed for his face and after three wasted hits, managed to land a good one against a small, hard object. 

Your attacker jerked, and you realized that he had some kind of breathing regulator in his mouth. You aimed again in the same vicinity. This time, you managed to get your hand around what felt like a small tank. With two hard tugs, it jerked free, but the guy grabbed the back of your hair, and wrenched your head backward sharply. The action caused your back to seize up. For a second, you couldn't move, and you lost your grip on the tiny air tank. That was all the opening the guy needed. He locked you against him again and started moving through the water.

Since he had to breathe this time, he propelled you both up to the surface for air. You exhaled and breathed deeply before resuming your punching and kicking. You knew if you stopped fighting, it would be over, and whatever he had planned for you, you weren’t about to make it easy on him.

He yelled out and cussed when you managed to land another good hit against the side of his face. Now that you knew where to aim, your nails clawed at him, tearing into what you thought might be his neck. Even above water, it was hard to see anything. He stopped for a minute a slapped you hard across the face, hand open. Though it was just a slap, it was enough to stun you briefly. 

“Stop fighting me, you stupid bitch,” he yelled. The voice had a vaguely familiar ring, but you couldn’t place it. He forced your arms down so that he could hold them in place. You knew he was getting ready to move, but now that he’d adjusted your positions, it was much harder to aim or land a kick. 

But just as soon as he started swimming, he jerked again and rammed into you. The force knocked what little air you still had from your lungs. But then you realized you were free. You were free and could move again. 

You started swimming in the opposite direction from where he’d been taking you, not looking back to see if he was giving chase. You didn't know what had caused the guy to release you, but you did know he was determined. If he got ahold of you a third time, you'd be unlikely to break free again. Because so many lights had been shot out, it was hard to make out the docks, but the shadows and lights from the boats helped.

You started swimming as fast as you could toward the closest dock. You were pretty sure it was several lots down from where the yacht was moored, but it didn't matter where you came up as long as you got to land and found someone to help or somewhere to hide. 

As you got closer to the docks, you could see flashlight beams bouncing around, but you couldn’t hear anyone. It looked like they were searching the water. You called for help. It was hard because your breath had barely returned, and you couldn't spare much air. The flashlights were directed in the wrong part of the water, closer to the yacht rather than in your direction. You were too far from shore, and they couldn't hear or see you in the chaos.

A hand grazed your shoulder. You screeched and started punching, landing a few blows. He wrapped a hand around your upper arm, and you tried to kick free, attempting to twist from his grip.

"It's me!" For a second, the words didn’t register. "It's Luke."

Oh God, Luke. In your panic, you'd half forgotten about him, assuming the worst when he’d been stabbed. You stilled, and when he pulled you into his arms, you let him. You plastered yourself against him and didn't even berate yourself for it. He was warm and solid and safe. Then you gasped. "He's still out there. We have to--"

"No, you don't have to worry about him coming back."

That took a minute for you to process. Had the guy given up and run? Was he wounded? Had Luke killed him? Was he the reason the guy had finally let you go?

Luke didn't seem phased. You'd suspected he had some military background, but the fact that he was an escort now and had been going along with your cover story that he was a personal trainer had left you to assume he'd left that life in his past.

You released your grip on him and pulled back, treading water. He relaxed his hold but didn’t fully let you go. You gazed up at him. “You saved me.”

“You put up a pretty good fight. Are you hurt?”

You leaned close and shook your head. Then you remembered the knife in his back. “But you are! Oh my God…” You started moving your hands over his shoulders, trying to scan his body in the dark light, as though you could somehow do something for him right then.

“Hey,” he brought a hand up to your face and tilted your chin up, “hey, I’m going to be fine.” He ran his thumb across your cheek. “ _We’re_ going to be fine.”

You swallowed and opened your mouth, not sure what you were going to say. 

You didn’t have to flounder for words long because your brother shouted your name, and a spotlight finally found you. You turned to look toward the docks, blinded by the light and unable to see Mal.

"Hobbs, did you get him?"

"Yeah, I got 'im," Luke yelled back. "Send a search boat for the body."

He really had killed him. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and you shuddered, hard.

"Come on. Let's get you to shore."


End file.
